Disordered
by seditionary
Summary: AU. Based on "Conflicted" Adam/Amanda . Spencer suffers from PTSD and has a second, female, personality working as a hooker. Derek vows to save him. Set in New Orleans. Adult material, including slash, cross-dressing, sex, references to rape and drug use
1. Cassie

**"Disordered"**

**This story was inspired by "Conflicted" (Adam/Amanda). **

**This is totally AU, but incorporates concepts and some details from the show, such as Spencer being a genius and Derek's background. Also, the essentials of what happened to Spencer in "Revelations".**

**Summary: Spencer Reid suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder. Two years before the start of the story, Derek Morgan left Chicago and ended up as a detective with the New Orleans Police Department and is suffering from burn-out. He is drawn into Spencer's bizarre world and vows to help him save himself.**

**You will meet Spencer's alter ego in this first chapter (totally ooc) but "regular" Spencer will show up in the next chapter. **

**Unedited version can be found on Live Journal.**

*********

It was late evening when Detective Derek Morgan drove his ten-year-old sedan down a battered residential street to what had once been an elegant family home. He pulled into the driveway, coming to a stop in the secluded area in front of the garage and glanced in the rear view mirror one more time. No one was around, and the few cars parked nearby were empty, but he sat behind the wheel for a moment longer, just to be sure.

At this point, he was past caring about the moral, ethical, and psychological implications of what he was about to do. The first time, he'd been tense and paranoid beforehand, then guilt-filled and paranoid afterward, but that was well over a year ago--any vestiges of guilt had long ago been laid to rest. Today, all he cared about was that it had been ten days since the last time, and that was too long; he wanted this--hell, he _needed _it.

But, he wanted to keep his job, and a tough black cop on the New Orleans police force did not need to be caught visiting a hooker.

Especially, a male hooker.

Yet, here he was again, at the run down garage apartment on Dauphine Avenue, walking up the rickety flight of stairs to tap on the weather-beaten door of Lady Cassandra. He knew every creaky step by heart; he supposed that he had earned the dubious distinction of being one of her "regulars".

Lady Cassandra--that was her working name, the one printed on her simple business card, which bore no other information than those two words and a telephone number. Derek never bothered to ask what her real name was. He could have found out easily enough, but he never even tried. In the back of his mind was the knowledge that he really didn't want to discover that her given name was John or Bill or Duane. He preferred to maintain the illusion.

A flutter of anticipation welled in his gut as he heard rustling on the other side of the door; it swung open and the tall, skinny Lady smiled.

"Detective Morgan, so good to see you. Come on in." She had full lips, dark eyes, and long, honey-brown tresses that fell in soft waves around her face. She wore a pale shade of foundation, almost white--it helped cover any beard growth--smoky eye shadow, eyeliner, and a touch of deep-hued lipstick. She was dressed in a long silk Japanese robe with satin embroidery that caught the light, and she glided about the room, closing shades and lighting candles.

Derek loved the room. It smelled of exotic spices, with a hint of orange and rose, and it was soon washed in a warm amber glow from the shimmering candles. In some ways, he felt more at home here than in his own apartment. He'd lived there two years and it was still rather sterile--a result, perhaps, of working too many sixty-five hour work weeks.

Here, it was welcoming and homey. One corner was designated as a kitchen/dining area, and the rest of the space was a cluttered but orderly combination living room and bedroom. There was a mirrored dresser crowded with hair care products, a curling iron, and jars and tubes of makeup. Books covered every surface, and were even stacked on the floor; a computer, notebooks and writing supplies were piled on a desk. Derek glanced at the bed--as always, it was neatly made up with a colorful bedspread and lots of pillows. He pushed away thoughts of what she did there with other men.

"Make yourself comfortable, dear. I was just about to have tea, would you like some?"

"Sure."

Derek hung his jacket on the back of a chair in the tiny kitchenette and sat down. The Lady poured him a cup and set a bowl of sugar and a spoon in front of him. She placed a small plate of thin lemon cookies in the middle of the table and offered him a napkin. He nodded his thanks and watched her take a seat, a slim bare thigh escaping the folds of the robe as she crossed her legs. She closed her eyes as she savored a sip of the warm brew, and Derek liked the way she ran her tongue over her lips after that first taste of sweet tea.

"Mmm, do you like this blend? My friend Myra brought it to me from Vietnam last fall, and I never got around to trying it. What do you think?"

"It's nice."

"I think so, too. I was afraid it would be too strong, but it has a subtlety about it. I guess it's fit to serve to guests after all."

"I like it, it's good."

"Well, good! How have you been, sugar, I haven't seen you lately."

"Fine. I've been busy with work. Things have been--crazy."

"Oh, I know. I keep up. Did you ever get that mess on the south side straightened out?"

"We caught them."

"Good, good. Makes a girl feel safe, knowing a big strong man like you is out there protecting her." The large brown eyes twinkled at him and he allowed himself a grin. Her soft Southern lilt made even the most pedestrian flirtation sound sexy as hell.

"Yeah. Well--you helped," he said ruefully.

She laughed merrily. "Oh, goodness! I just asked a few pertinent questions. You already had the answer, you were just thinking on it too hard."

"You always help when I'm stuck."

"Well, I listen. You know, sometimes it's good to just talk things out. And, to tell you the truth, I love puzzles. I really like a chance to exercise the old gray matter." She winked and tapped the side of her head and beamed at him. He smiled back uncomfortably then glanced at his watch, and she frowned apologetically.

"Oh, listen to me, prattling on. You didn't come here for chit-chat today, now did you?" She stood up and sidled over to him, put one arm over his shoulders and wiggled into his lap. "What'll it be, angel? What can Cassie do for you tonight?" She brought her mouth down to his and gently bit and sucked his lower lip. He untied the belt at her waist and opened the robe, revealing a flat bare chest. He ran his thumb over a nipple and buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply. She smelled fresh and clean, like the soap his mom used to use. He slid his hand down over her belly.

"Your mouth."

"Mmm. Yes, sir, Detective." She bit his neck playfully before she slid off his lap and knelt in front of him. He opened his pants, took out his erection and leaned back in the chair. She smiled coyly as she leaned forward and used her tongue.

She held his balls in her hand and murmured, "My, my, darling, it has been a while, hasn't it? Don't you worry, Cassie's going to take care of you. You'll be light as a feather when she's done with you."

Derek groaned as she took him in her mouth. She was a true artist, knowing just when to increase the pressure and when to back off; when to use her tongue, and when to press her teeth into the velvety flesh. And, when to let the thick member slide down her throat... Derek slid lower in his chair and put one hand behind her head and thrust deeper. He felt one of her hands tangle in his shirt tail while the other applied gentle squeezes, and he groaned again.

She continued her work until Derek reached his peak. She swallowed and pulled back, lapping at him while the last tremors of aftershock stilled, then continued to stroke him. He made a little whimpering sound and she looked up with a smile.

"How was that, darling?"

"Incredible. You're fucking incredible," he gasped.

She gave a pleased laugh, and said, "Well, I should hope so. I've had enough practice." She stood up and stretched and the robe fell away from her slender frame. He caught a glimpse of a pale bony hip, and the slack genitals that belied her feminine presence. Derek smiled. That was what he liked about her--apart from the carefully styled hair, heavy make up and women's clothing, she made no attempt to conceal her gender, didn't even bother to remove body hair. A male and female entity she truly was, and it was the best of both worlds, in Derek's opinion.

He reached for her hand and pulled her down to him so that she straddled his lap. She laughed and clasped her hands behind his head. Derek took both of their cocks and squeezed and rubbed them together. He grinned up at her, holding her securely with one arm around her waist, and he playfully tongued and sucked at a nipple. She yelped delightedly.

"Oh, my, Detective Morgan! You _are_ in a mood tonight. You must have had a nice day."

"Not really, but you make me feel good."

"Well, now that's what I like to hear."

She ran a cool hand over Derek's shaved head, shimmied off his lap and went to the bed.

"So, you don't have to run off right away, now do you?"

"No. I've got some time."

"Well, then, come on over here, sweetheart. You want to watch some TV?"

"No, leave it off. How about some music?"

"Of course." She sat on the edge of the bed and fiddled with the stereo receiver and put on a local jazz station. Derek, recovered, stood up, went to stand in front of her and pulled her to her feet. He pushed the robe away from her shoulders and it slipped down her arms, then to the floor. He ran his hands over her naked body, taking his time, squeezing and exploring. No matter how often he touched her, every time was a pleasure.

"Oh, my..." she murmured. She put her arms around his neck and nibbled under his ear, then began opening the buttons on his shirt. He took off his clothes, lay down on the bed and pulled her down next to him. She snuggled into his arms and they lay quietly for a long while, just touching each other and listening to the music. He observed a fresh bruise on her shoulder, and an old mottled one on her hip. He still felt a rise of anger when he saw things like that. Her forearms were smooth, but he saw the track marks on the inside of her thigh and forced himself not to think about it. He allowed her to stroke him some more, then she bent down and used her mouth to bring his erection back to life.

Cassie looked up at him, knowing what he'd been looking for, and what he'd seen. He was so... different from the others. Always gentle with her, at least until they actually fucked. Then he could be a little rough, but that was ok. He just got carried away, he never meant to hurt her. And, it was good, actually. Sometimes, that was what it took to make her feel anything, anymore. As for the other things, well, in the beginning he'd be furious with her when he saw the marks. He tried to talk her into going into rehab, lectured her on how dangerous her profession was, blah blah blah. It was sweet. Now, he just sighed, and somehow, that got to her more than his outrage.

"What do you think, angel, want a little more loving?"

"I want this." He slipped his hand over her firm round bottom and squeezed, and she smiled before reaching for a bottle of lube and a condom. She helped him get the condom on then slathered his erection with the slick gel.

"Tell me how you want me," she whispered.

"On your back, legs wrapped around me."

She lay back, ready for him. He found her entrance, then slammed in with one fast thrust. She cried out, more for effect than anything--she knew he liked it when she was vocal--but he didn't hurt her at all. He pumped in and out a few times, setting his pace, then settled into a hard rhythm. She lay passively, stroking his arms and thighs, smiling when she saw him search her face.

She said things--"Oh, harder, baby! That feels so good..." and the like, things she knew turned him on, but in truth, the Dilaudid had kicked in and she really wasn't feeling much of anything now, she was just floating on the bed, aware of the regular push-pull that was happening below her waist, but not really in the room at all.

It took him a long time. When he was done, Derek pulled out of her, peeled off the condom and lay back to let the intensity of his orgasm wash over him until he felt coherent again. He glanced at her lying next to him--beautiful, eyes closed, long lashes resting on darkened skin. She was breathing slowly but regularly, and Derek shook his head. There would be no more lively discussion from her tonight. He got up, dressed, and pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket.

"Cassie. Here."

He waited until she roused enough to realize that he was putting the money into her hand.

"Oh--oh, darling, are we done so soon? That was so nice, you are such a stud. Oh, my, look at all that cash, that's way too much, baby. Way too much."

"No, no, it's fine. Take it. Take it. I'll see you next time."

"All right, sweetheart. Don't be a stranger, you know you're a little drop of sunshine for me, you know that, right? A little... drop of sunshine..."

Derek pulled her face up and looked into her clouded eyes.

"Be careful, ok?"

"Always, darling." She managed to bring forth a bright smile and he brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead. He went to the kitchen and put on his jacket, then headed out the door.

*****

**Please push the little green button and (swoon) review!! I will love you forever, thank you.**


	2. Spencer

**A/N: Thank you for the great response to the first chapter of this story! Hope you like this one. Here, we meet Spencer...**

*****

A few nights after visiting Cassie, Derek pulled into the Stop-N-Save parking lot and sighed. He was tired. He'd learned long ago that cooking for himself was a demanding and potentially dangerous endeavor, but he couldn't bear the thought of even one more night of restaurant food. So, he forced himself to get out of the car and head into the grocery store, a hastily prepared list in his hand.

He got a cart and started with the produce aisle, figuring he could stock up on potatoes and carrots--they didn't go bad too quickly, did they?--and maybe a bag of salad. His mother often told him he needed more fiber in his diet, and he supposed she was right. As he contemplated a misshapen Idaho baker, he became aware of a young man on the other side of the display. He, too, was examining a potato.

He glanced at him--tall and skinny, dressed in a plaid button-down shirt, a baggy green sweater, slacks and worn tennis shoes. He had a battered messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and the shadows on his upper lip and jaw suggested he hadn't shaved that morning. Lank brown hair fell in his face as he bent over the produce bin, and in spite of his youth, he reminded Derek of a disgraced science professor waiting to receive a letter of censure.

Something familiar about him caught Derek's eye. It was the way he held himself, his movements... his hands. He ran through a series of images in his mind, taking care not to be noticed as he sized up the boy. Suddenly, recognition hit him--and was just as quickly rejected. No. It couldn't be. But... He looked up, searched the kid's face and confirmed his discovery, just as the boy looked up as well. For him, recognition was instantaneous.

Derek saw a flash of panic, and the young man hastily glanced from side to side, looking for a quick escape, but Derek smiled and said, "Hey! How are you?"

The boy's mouth worked for a moment, but no words came out. Then his voice, so different from the other--deeper, more raw, with no hint of a Southern drawl--stammered, "F-fine. Just fine. Uh--how are _you?" _He stood stock still, like an animal hoping to be overlooked by an approaching predator.

"I'm ok, just picking up some groceries. You look--different." _Right, Derek_, he thought. _State the obvious_.

"Yeah. Well, um, have a nice evening." He nodded deferentially, dropped his eyes and tried to slip away, but Derek followed and gently put a hand on his shoulder. The kid flinched.

"Hang on, don't run off. This is--wow. Just, you know--wow!"

The boy laughed sheepishly. "Yeah, uh--I guess you've never seen me in my civvies, huh? Well, this is me!" He spread his hands apart with a self-deprecating shrug, but kept glancing around distractedly. Derek noticed he was still holding a plastic bag with one lone potato in it.

"Yeah. Wow." Derek tried to smile reassuringly as he fished for something engaging to say. "Say, uh--can you tell if these potatoes are any good? They're shaped funny. What do you think?" Now Derek was struggling with the boy's youthful appearance. He'd assumed Cassie to be in her late twenties; seeing his face without the makeup, and wearing his ill-fitting thrift-store clothes, the kid looked about fifteen.

"They're ok."

"Uh-huh. You, uh, cook?"

The boy bit his lip and shrugged again. "Oh--a little. Enough to get by." They were both silent for a moment, then he put on a bright smile and said, "Well, I need to get going--"

He was beautiful, but in a completely different way than Derek was used to seeing him, and the detective couldn't stop staring.

"Well, now, hold on. Listen, why don't we ditch this stuff and I'll take you to dinner?"

"Dinner?" The boy looked trapped.

"Sure, there's a great Italian place around the corner."

"Oh--uh, well--"

"Yeah, come on. We can talk."

"Talk?"

"Yeah, get to know each other a little better."

The kid swallowed hard and finally looked Derek in the eye. "Why?"

Derek stopped to think. It was a good question, and clearly, the thought of spending time with one of his clients outside of his "work" environment made the young man nervous. He should let him go, let him maintain the illusion, but Derek didn't want to. There was something about this revelation that made him feel like an anthropologist on the verge of finding the Missing Link. He couldn't let him just walk away.

"Hey, come on. We're friends, right?"

_"Friends?" _

"Yeah! We could have a nice dinner together, couldn't we?"

"Uh--"

Derek took the potato out of his hand and set it back on the pile. "Come on. I don't want to cook for myself after all, let's go get some pasta or something. My treat."

The boy took a deep breath. Great. All he needed was a damn client chatting him up over spaghetti and meatballs on his day off. And, a cop, too--he'd known better than to get mixed up with a cop. Who else would be observant enough to recognize him? But, there really wasn't any help for it. He knew that he'd offend him if he refused, and angry lawmen were not conducive to his line of work, so he plastered the fake smile back onto his face and nodded.

"Well, ok. Sounds good."

"Great!" Derek abandoned his grocery cart, gestured toward the door, and they walked the short distance to the restaurant. The got a table off to the side, away from the other patrons, and the waiter brought them their menus. They busied themselves studying the night's specials until the waiter returned to take their orders.

Derek made small talk about the weather and the city's recovery from the hurricane. He asked trivial questions such as how long the boy had been living in New Orleans, what his favorite restaurants were, and if he ever shopped at the Marketplace. The boy kept his answers brief, but they were lost on Derek anyway, so absorbed was he with making comparisons between him and Lady Cassandra. He observed every nuance of expression, noted the nervous way he used his hands and the rhythm of his unfamiliar voice.

Once they had their plates in front of them, Derek decided it was time to switch tactics. He directed a look similar to those he used on suspects in the interrogation room and asked, "So--where's your Southern accent?"

The boy squirmed uncomfortably. "Oh... Well, I have an ear for languages and accents--that one's easy for me. And, it just seems to--fit the circumstances."

"The circumstances, right. What _are_ the circumstances?"

The boy pretended to examine his garlic bread, then leaned forward and dropped his voice, speaking as diplomatically as he knew how. "Look--you're one of my best clients and I don't want to lose you, but... Can't we just--you know, leave this alone?"

Derek twirled a bit of pasta on his fork. "What do you mean?"

"Can't we just go our separate ways and forget we ever ran into each other?" The boy's eyes were huge and earnest over the glow of candlelight, and Derek resisted the urge to pull him across the table and kiss him. He said gently, "I don't think I can do that."

The kid nodded, then his gaze fell to the table. Of course not. When would he stop being so damned naive? Maybe he could at least get it over with quickly. "Ok," he said resignedly as he looked up again. "Well, then, how about if I give you a blow job in the men's room? For free. Would that be sufficient?"

Derek stared, not sure if he heard right.

"Huh? No, I--"

"I mean, if you really want a fuck, we could go do it in your car. I-I don't want to go anywhere else, if that's ok. I just need to get home."

"I don't--"

"Please, this is my day off." He smiled entreatingly, hoping he wasn't pissing the man off, hoping he would understand. "I-I just want to finish my errands, then go home and relax, you know?"

"I don't want sex," Derek hissed, then hastily looked around. No one had heard. He turned back and fixed the kid with a glare. "I don't want anything from you, I just wanted to talk."

The boy blinked a couple of times, settled back in his chair and gave Derek a skeptical look.

"Really?"

"Yes! I just wanted to ask you some things, find out a little more about you."

"Oh... Ok." _That's even worse_, he thought. He cleared his throat. "Well--what do you want to know?"

Derek stared at the young man, who was now fiddling with the wrapper from his paper napkin.

"Well--let's start with something simple. What's your real name?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "You're going to laugh."

"I could use a good laugh. What is it?"

"Spencer."

Derek did laugh, more from the tension than from real amusement. "'Spencer.' That's a very grown-up sounding name. It suits you, though, now that I think about it. How old are you?"

Spencer considered lying, but there wasn't any point. "Nineteen."

Derek's eyebrows shot up. "Nineteen? You're just a baby."

"Yeah, right."

"Where are your parents?"

Spencer felt a surge of impatience. _Oh, for God's sake_, he thought, _give me a break_. "They live next door, in the house with the white picket fence. Mommy makes my lunch every day, and Daddy drives me to school. If I'm a good boy, they're going to buy me a pony, and--"

Derek put down his fork and held up one hand defensively. "Ok, ok. Sorry. Look, I'm just--I'm just trying to figure out how you ended up here."

Spencer held his gaze. "I won an all-expenses-paid trip straight to hell, just like everybody else living in this part of town."

Derek sighed. "Listen, kid--I understand that you don't trust me. I'm not trying to cause you any trouble. I really want to know. I've always liked you, always wondered why... You didn't fit the stereotype, you know? You're smarter than that. And now, knowing that you're so young--I guess I just want to help."

Spencer's irritation faded and for a moment he just looked exhausted. He ran a hand through his hair and said quietly, "That's really kind of you. I know you're a nice guy, trying to make the world a better place and all that, but now you're just making it more difficult for me. I'm doing fine, I really am. Please don't worry about me."

"What do you mean, I'm making it more difficult?"

"You're one of the good ones. When you come over, I know you're going to treat me well, that I can relax. But, you're probably not going to want to visit Cassie anymore, now that you've seen me this way."

"Maybe I like you better this way."

Spencer's jaw tightened. "But, I'm not going to--look, this is my real life, ok? This is _me_. I have to protect that, or I don't have anything at all. I'm not going to, you know, take your money when I'm wearing these clothes. Do you understand?"

Derek nodded. "In real life, you're Spencer. And, Spencer's not a whore."

Spencer's eyes seemed to burn right through him. "I know how delusional that sounds. But, it's how I get through the day. When I put on the make-up, I become--her. Then, it's easy, then it's all happening to someone else. I just--I can't blend the two. I'm _not_ her, she's a role I play. I'm me, and I--I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't want to, you know, _be _with you when I'm off duty, so to speak." His voice had become pleading and he looked as if he were going to cry. "I really, really like you, but--"

"It's ok. It's ok, kid, honest, I'm not asking for anything, I don't want... I just wanted to find out about you, that's all. Nothing more. Please, don't be upset." He put his hand on Spencer's and gave it a gentle squeeze. He could feel it twitch under his touch.

"But, you're a cop, and--"

"And, you think I'll get whatever I want from you, or else?"

Spencer sucked in his lip and nodded.

Derek knew the level of corruption that existed in that town, and he didn't blame the kid for being mistrustful. He spoke as firmly as he could. "I wouldn't get any pleasure taking something from you that you didn't want to give. I will never do that. I just worry about you. I worry that someone's going to hurt you, or--"

"Detective, I--"

"And, I worry that you're going to hurt yourself, with a needle."

"I've got it under control."

"Sure, that's what every junkie says."

"I'm not--look, I don't use every day. I can go without it if I have to. It just--helps. That's all."

"Then, why are you doing this? Why don't you get a real job, I bet you could do anything you wanted. Not here, maybe, but--"

Spencer sighed, then spoke quietly. "I have obligations, Detective. I can't work as a clerk somewhere for minimum wage and take ten years to work my way to the top. I don't have that luxury."

"What, you got a wife and six kids stashed away somewhere?"

Spencer rubbed his eyes with one hand and laughed slightly. "Uh--no, not exactly."

"So, what kind of obligations?"

"I'm not going to--look, please, just leave me alone. I don't need any help. Or rather, remember that you help me when you come to see Cassie. When you talk intelligently to her and treat her like a normal human being. When you pay her. That helps me. Can't we leave it at that?"

"I still want to know your story, Spencer."

"It doesn't matter. I--"

"You matter."

Spencer stared blankly for a moment, then laughed. "You're amazing. You don't give up, do you? You really think I'm worth wasting your time on. Listen, I'm just some guy--no one special. You'd be a lot better off working at a soup kitchen, or rehab-ing pelicans or something. Trust me, I'm not a project that's going to bring you any success."

"Give me a chance."

"No." Spencer put his napkin over his barely-touched plate and stood up. "I need to go. Thank you for dinner. If you decide to visit Cassie again, that would be wonderful. Otherwise, I don't think I'll be seeing you again. All right?" He stood hesitantly as if waiting to be dismissed.

Derek stood as well and came around to Spencer's side of the table. He put his hands on the boy's thin shoulders, holding him firmly when he reflexively pulled back. He waited to speak until Spencer's eyes met his.

"No, it's not all right. I'm not giving up. I do want to see you again--and, I mean _you, _Spencer. We could do something fun--go to a movie, or bowling, or something."

"It's a little late for the Big Brother program, Detective."

"Don't worry. I really don't see you as a kid brother," Derek said, his voice soft. He dropped his hands and stepped back a pace. "Let me put it this way--I'm going to call you, and I'm going to take you out. We're going to spend some time together--whether you like it or not." He said it jokingly, but Spencer could see the determination in his face. His eyes widened.

"Take me out? Like, on a date?"

"Yeah, exactly."

"But, I--wait a minute. You want me--Spencer--to go out on a date with _you_, a cop. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"That doesn't sound healthy--for either of us."

"It'll be fine."

"But--"

"No 'buts'. I'll call you to set a time."

He shifted uncomfortably. "That's very flattering, Detective, but I'm not looking for a boyfriend."

Derek shrugged and said firmly, "Fine, it doesn't have to be a date. It can just be two friends spending some time together."

Now Spencer laughed out loud. "We're not friends, either."

"I think we will be, if you'll just give me a chance."

A wistful look crossed Spencer's face. "And, will that be enough for you?"

"If it has to be, yes."

Spencer studied the man. He'd never given Cassie any reason not to trust him, and, by now, he'd managed to convince Spencer that he wasn't trying to take advantage of him. In fact, he was beginning to make him feel... safe. But, he questioned the man's judgment, given his willingness to be seen in public with him. Oh, well, it was his funeral. He finally nodded, then he slyly raised an eyebrow.

"Well--ok... But, bowling? I think I'd prefer to play a few games of pool."

Derek grinned and said, "Anything you want, pretty boy."

A genuine smile that would warm Derek's heart for days crossed Spencer's face, then he glanced hopefully toward the door. "All right, well, I really have to go now. Talk to you soon." He backed away and gave a slight wave before turning and slipping out of the restaurant. Derek watched the boy hasten off, then sat down to finish his meal.

Maybe he was going crazy. Or, maybe he always had been. But there was something in Spencer's eyes that made him feel sane, and he had to see if it was real--or just another illusion.

_**Psst--please review, you are all dear to me!**_


	3. Inner Voyeur

**A/N: Hello! I wanted to thank everyone for the warm reception this story has received! Hope you like this chapter... Warning, some m/m sexy stuff at the end, so be aware of that. **

**Seds**

*********

Derek held Lady Cassandra's worn business card in one hand and punched the number into his phone with the other. He'd had it memorized long ago; he just liked looking at the card and remembering the time she had discretely slipped it into his pocket.

"Now, Officer Morgan," she'd said, "I want you to call me if anything... develops. With the case, I mean." She'd winked, patted the chest pocket on his uniform, and turned to walk out of the station house. She'd worn gold high-heeled sandals , a matching purse, and a short white sweater over a sleeveless red dress that hugged her tiny waist. Morgan had watched her leave, distressed but excited by the effect her gently swinging hips had had on his crotch. That had been well over a year ago, and he still smiled at the memory.

A mechanical voice came on the line and asked him to please leave his name, phone number and a brief message, and assured him that his call would be returned. Morgan snapped back to the present.

"Uh--yeah, this message is for Spencer. Listen, kid, this is call number three, and I'm really hoping you'll call me back. You did agree to go out with me, remember? I sure didn't think you were the type to renege on a promise. If I don't hear from you, I'll just have to drop by and make sure you're all right. Ok? Ok. Call me. 'Bye."

It occurred to Derek that he was beginning to sound like a stalker. Under normal circumstances, if someone he had asked for a date didn't return his calls--an unlikely scenario, but still--he would have accepted it as a rational decision on their part and left them alone.

But, this was different. He knew the boy had all sorts of reservations and suspicions about him. He also knew how it was with drug users--Spencer was so far into the lifestyle he was living that he probably couldn't conceive of any way out. He felt sure that if he could win his trust, he would be able to persuade him otherwise, but he couldn't do that if the kid never even returned his calls.

It was Wednesday; he decided to give him until noon on Friday, and if he didn't hear from him by then, he'd drop by on his lunch break and rattle his cage. Winning him over was likely to be a long process, but that was ok. He had seen something in the boy that told him that if only he had someone on his side, someone to help him fight certain battles, that it would be worth it.

And, he was willing to be that someone, if only he could get a little cooperation.

*****

Lady Cassandra finished checking her messages, then clicked the phone shut on her chin. She stared out the window for a long moment, then lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. That Detective Morgan was a dear man. He was a true gentleman, a hell of a good lover, and a powerful warrior. And to top it all off, he was gorgeous.

It was too bad that he'd run into poor little Spencer. She just knew he wouldn't come around to see her anymore, now that he'd found out who--or, what--she really was, and that was damned depressing. Now, he was on a mission to save the pathetic little waif. Which could have been a wonderful chance for Spencer, but the boy didn't have the wherewithal to handle a man like that. She might as well put Derek Morgan out of her mind right now. Right now...

Because she sure as hell wasn't going to let him waste his time trying to save _her_.

*****

On Friday, Derek's lunch hour was reduced to a couple of minutes spent scarfing down a stale sandwich from the office vending machine, followed by another three minutes of sipping water in front of the hallway cooler with a blank expression on his face. Most days were like that--too much happening at once, not enough people to handle any of it.

And, he was sick of it. Sick of never getting anywhere--oh, not career-wise, he'd had two promotions in less than two years--but in the so-called fight against crime. A cop could spend his whole life working a beat and it would barely be a drop in the bucket against the bone-deep rot of this town. The drugs, the violence, the social deterioration... It had been bad before, but now, after the destruction of the hurricane, things were even worse.

It was the reason he had decided to get out. He wasn't sure how, he wasn't sure when, but he'd started the process--talking to people, putting in applications, scouring the internet. He'd even applied to the FBI. That would be his dream job. Not that he thought he had a chance in hell of getting it, although the first interview had gone pretty well. But, a man had to dream, or the nightmares of day to day life would overtake him.

Before he could finish his musings, a call came in regarding a possible homicide. He tossed the paper cup into the trash, and he and a couple of officers headed out to meet the medical examiner at the scene.

*****

It was eight o'clock that evening before he was able to stumble out of the station and into his own car. He thought of just driving home, falling into bed, and letting everything and everyone else in the world go to hell while he took a shot at getting a decent night's sleep for a change. But, then he thought of Spencer. Damn kid never called him back, and he wondered if he was waiting for him to make another move. If so, he didn't want to disappoint him. And, if he thought Derek would just go away, he for damn sure wasn't going to encourage him in thinking that he was right.

He sighed and drove down Dauphine Avenue. He parked at a point where he could see into Spencer's-- Lady Cassandra's--window; he saw her wearing her robe, lighting candles; then he saw a man headed toward the bed. Just then, Cassie pulled down the shade.

A rush of anger came over him, ridiculous though he knew that was. He got out of the car and made his way up the old stairs as silently as he could. He stepped carefully along the landing that ran beside the window and saw that the shade stopped short of the bottom of the window, allowing him enough room to peek in.

He knew that what he was doing was creepy, but somehow he couldn't help himself. He saw a man in an expensive-looking business suit seated on the bed, taking off his tie. Derek's eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips; the bastard looked to be at least sixty, and he had on a goddamn wedding ring to boot. Derek waited, wanting--needing--to see Cassie, to see what she would do. It was a little bit of personal torture that Derek somehow could not prevent himself from inflicting.

He heard Cassie say something. The man suddenly looked worried, and he glanced toward the window. Derek's state of exhaustion had compromised his reflexes, and he was unprepared when he heard clothing rustle nearby. Before he could turn, everything exploded into pinpoints of light, then it all went black.

He slumped against the peeling paint of Cassie's garage apartment wall.

*****

"Detective? Detective Morgan? Are you all right?"

Derek's eyes fluttered open and he saw Cassie kneeling next to him, a heavy iron frying pan in her hand. "Uh..." was all he could manage.

"Oh, dear, I really smacked you a good one, didn't I? My goodness, sugar, I hope I didn't do any permanent damage. Come on now, sit up. Try and sit up for me. There, that's a good little peeping Tom, sit right up. That's it. Are you dizzy?"

"Uh... Wha--what happened?" Derek did sit up, and instinctively rubbed the throbbing place on the back of his head.

"Sweetie, after that burglary last spring I had me some security cameras installed. Remember? I saw somebody scuttling along out here, and it never occurred to me that it could be you! Oh, baby, come on now, can you stand up? I'd carry you if I could, but--try and stand up, that's right. Let's get you inside so we can see if you have a concussion. That's it, come on, baby..."

Derek struggled to his feet and leaned heavily on Cassie with one arm. He allowed himself to be led into her apartment and to the kitchen table. He sat down and rested his head in his hands, hoping the spinning would stop soon. Cassie put a glass of water in front of him, then found a flashlight and took his chin in her hand. She shone the beam into first one eye, then the other, checking his pupils.

"Well, you don't seem to have a concussion, thank goodness. Let me get you an ice pack. Good lord, that's quite a bump, I bet that hurts, doesn't it? Yeah, I bet it does. Here, here we go."

She brought a soft cold pack out of her freezer and placed it on the burning, swollen knot that had already formed. Derek finally managed to eke out a complete sentence.

"What the hell did you think you were doing? If you knew you had a prowler out there, why didn't you call the police?"

"Oh, now, honey, don't be silly. You know how long it takes a cop to get out here on a good day, much less on a Friday night? And, honestly, you have to be in the middle of being murdered to get the 911 operator to take you even a little bit seriously. No, I've learned it's better to just take things into your own hands, that's why I got me a No. 10 frying pan from the Stop-N-Save, I knew it'd come in handy one day."

"_Handy? _You could have killed me!"

"Well, now, that was not my intention, but--you know, if you go around peeking in ladies' windows, you have to expect that you might run into the occasional blunt object once in a while, don't you think?"

"I don't--I just--oh, God, I don't know what the hell I was doing. I saw you through the window... You were with some guy, and--"

"Mm-hmm, and your inner voyeur just fought his way to the surface, didn't he? Now, sweetie, I want to be clear on something--I am not mad at you. I really am not, it's just that, in addition to scaring me half to death, my date for the evening scrammed like a damn weasel, and I have to tell you, that cost me the money I had earmarked to pay the electric bill. I need my electricity, honey, I don't like cold showers or hot beer. So, I'm awfully sorry about your poor head, but I think you kind of deserved it, don't you?"

Derek's vision had just about returned to normal, and he managed to follow the gist of Cassie's reproach. He grimaced, but nodded. "Yeah, well... I'm sorry, Cassie. I--I was actually coming by to check on Spencer. He never did call me back." Now it was his turn to be reproachful, and he gave Cassie a reproving stare even as it occurred to him that he was speaking of Spencer as if he were a different person.

She sat back, crossed her legs, and sighed. "Did you really expect him to?"

"Yes, I did. He made a promise to me. Why wouldn't he call?"

Cassie cast her dark eyes to the floor and was silent. Then she looked up and said gently, "Detective Morgan--Spencer's a broken toy. He--he's really not capable of dealing with the things you want so much to help him with. Believe me when I say you're wasting your time. I do the best I can to protect him, but the stress you've put him through--well, let's just say, it would be better if you'd back off a little. Spencer normally doesn't use, and you almost had him shooting up when he got home after seeing you. I don't need that complication, know what I mean?"

Derek stared at her, bewildered. It was one thing for him to defer to the illusion that had been created, another for her to so clearly disassociate from her alter ego. But, he gathered his wits and asked, "What do you mean, he's a broken toy?"

Cassie slid lower in her chair, put her hands behind her head and stared up at the ceiling. She took a deep breath before speaking. "When Spencer was sixteen, he took his mama's car to the gas station to fill it up for her. While he was inside paying, a man slipped in and hid in the back seat, waiting for Spencer to come back. As soon as he got behind the wheel, the man stuck a gun in his neck and forced him to drive a long way away from the city. He kept Spencer captive in a small house trailer for days. He..." She faltered for a moment, then her jaw clenched and she continued.

"The man did--terrible things to him. Things that--" She looked down and wet her lips. "Things that hurt. Things that fucked up Spencer's mind. The only way he survived was--the man had a son, a grown-up son. He would sneak into the room where Spencer was kept and inject him with Dilaudid. He told Spencer that that was how he survived the years when his father was doing those things to _him_...

"Anyway, one day, a tree fell and knocked out a power line, and a couple of repairmen came out to fix it. They heard Spencer screaming. They called the police, and there was a shoot-out. The father was shot dead, and the son died later in the hospital. Spencer was rescued, but... He blamed himself somehow, for the son's death. And, by then, he was addicted to the drug. He got off it for a while, but he never really recovered. Never really recovered. He started having nightmares, and eventually, he started using again, and, well--here we are."

Cassie pulled back her hair and twisted it on top of her head, then let it go. It fell around her face and Derek's breath was taken away. At the same time, Spencer's story stabbed his heart, but he just pressed his lips together and nodded. He was used to repressing his emotions.

"Where do you come in?" he asked softly.

"Oh, well, I just evolved." She gave a rueful smile. "Spencer left school, he was very young, you know, and then some things happened, financially speaking. He found that there were ways to get what he needed money-wise, but he couldn't handle it. His mind just sort of let him go away--so I stepped up, I took control during those times. At first, I don't think he even realized what was happening. Then, he got to where he could make it happen whenever he wanted. I'd say it was some sort of dissociative disorder, but he remembers everything that happens to me, and vice versa. I think it's just a coping mechanism, you know?" She thoughtfully chewed her lower lip then looked back at Derek.

"Sounds like you should have been a psychologist."

"Oh, Spencer's got a BS in psychology."

Derek was taken aback. "A BS? He told me he was just nineteen, how--"

Cassie nodded. "Spencer's a genius, Detective. He has an eidetic memory. He graduated from high school when he was twelve. He'd earned two degrees by the time he was sixteen. That was when--things went off-track."

"Two college degrees? A genius? Why the hell--why the hell didn't anyone help him? Why wasn't he taken care of? What was wrong with his mother that she didn't--"

A blank look came over Cassie's face. "You'd better talk to Spencer about that." The way she said it let Derek know there would be no more information coming from her that evening. He shook his head, overwhelmed by this new perspective, and felt even more determined to help the awkward young man--if only he could speak to him.

"Cassie--"

"Are you hungry, Detective? I have some beans and rice made fresh today, how about it? Can you eat, is your head better?"

"I--well, yeah, I'm ok. I'm fine, actually." He tentatively rubbed the back of his head again and looked up at her. "What were we talking about?" he asked with a grin. He recognized her ploy of distraction.

She smirked. "Whether or not you want cheese on your beans and rice, I believe."

"Uh--sure."

Derek watched as she heated his meal in the microwave and found a place setting for him. She filled two glasses with iced tea, set one before him and took a seat across from him, sipping the other. Derek gratefully took a drink. It was sweet and cold and felt good on the back of his throat. He put the glass down and looked at Cassie.

"So--the guy I ran off--was that your last client for today?"

"Yes, I'm a bit at loose ends now, as a matter of fact."

"I'll cover your electric bill."

"Why, thank you, Detective, I appreciate that."

"Are you--did you, uh--"

"What?"

"Did you use today?"

Cassie's eyes narrowed and she ran a hand through her hair, a gesture that was also Spencer's. "No, sir, I did not--you interrupted quite a lot this evening, I must say."

"Good. Please don't. Just for this one evening, at least, not while I'm here. Ok?"

"Well, I--"

"Please."

She looked at him, and after a long moment, nodded. "All right. If it's that important to you."

"It is."

She shrugged and swirled the ice cubes around in her glass. They fell into a comfortable silence, then she said, "So, is there someone waiting for you at home?" It was the first time she'd ever asked him an even slightly personal question.

Derek shook his head. "No, no one."

"I didn't think so."

"Oh, you don't think I could land a significant other?" Derek joked.

"That's not what I meant, silly. I meant, I didn't think you were the type to step out on your wife or girlfriend--I assume you _do_ enjoy the company of actual women in your 'normal' life, yes?"

He nodded. "Well, I did, once upon a time when I _had_ a normal life."

Cassie grinned. "I understand. Well, anyway, I was right. You're a good man, I can see that. You have--integrity."

"Integrity. Sure, that's why I was sneaking around under your window this evening."

She laughed. "Oh, now, that's a whole different kettle of fish. Any time you want to watch, you just let me know, I have clients who are into that sort of thing."

"No, no, I--look, I probably should be going." He stood up. "Would you please--_please--_get Spencer to call me? I just want to talk to him."

Cassie gazed up and put a warm hand on his. "Spencer will be here in the morning, Detective. If you really want to talk to him, you should stay over--might be a good idea anyway, in case you have complications from your head injury, don't you think?"

Derek looked down at her, liking her touch, liking the way she was looking at him. He wanted to stay, but couldn't push aside the thought of how intensely bizarre the situation had become, and he regretfully ran his fingertips lightly down the side of her face. "I shouldn't... I'd feel weird about it, it's--"

"It's ok. Spencer won't mind."

He didn't say anything, and Cassie rose to her feet. She slipped her arms around his waist and kissed him. It was almost a shy gesture, just a soft peck, and he could tell she was waiting to see how he would react.

He had been trying to reconcile the pale skin, red lips, and artificially darkened eyes with Spencer's boyish face; to figure out how Cassie could be so filled with wanton grace while Spencer was all coltish arms and legs; and how she could exude such confidence, while the boy seemed to struggle with simply looking other people in the eye.

The kiss took him by surprise.

Instinctively, he pulled her against him and eagerly returned her overture. It was something they had never done before, just kissing; oddly, he'd never really wanted to, it was an act too intimate for their kind of relationship. But now, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world, and for a moment, all he could think about was how soft her lips were. Then, he corrected himself--_his _lips. Damn it, this _was_ Spencer. How could he keep forgetting that? But...

They stood holding each other, exploring with their hands and mouths as if they'd never touched before, until Cassie stepped back and took his hand. She led him to the bed, and with her back to him, she slipped off her robe. He saw that she was wearing a lacy white negligee--and nothing else. He ran his hands over the silky cloth that clung to her hips, and gently scraped his teeth over her neck and shoulder.

Cassie turned and helped him undress. When he was down to his boxers, she started to shimmy out of her gown, but he grabbed her hand. "Leave it," he whispered. She grinned and lay down on the bed. He quickly joined her, and began kissing her again. Her hand moved over his torso down to his erection, and she stroked and squeezed him lovingly.

"Are you sure you're up to this, Detective Morgan? I mean, obviously you're _up--"_

"Ha-ha."

"...but, is your poor head all right? You're not going to pass out on me at a critical moment, are you?"

"No, I've been hit in the head before. This wasn't too bad. I'll be ok."

"Mmm. That... is good news." Cassie lay back and raised her hips so Derek could push the soft fabric up and over her waist. He shifted his weight and they kissed and moved against each other until she reached into her nightstand drawer and brought out lube and a condom. Derek murmured, "Not just yet."

Cassie smiled, but shot him an inquisitive look. Detective Morgan liked sex--a lot--and it wasn't like him to put it off. What the heck was he up to?

He moved his mouth over her exposed belly, licking and nipping at the velvety skin. That made her giggle, and she protested, "Detective Morgan! You stop that! What in the world has gotten into you, you're being awful!"

He laughed too, but held her firmly, and trailed more kisses down to the soft member lying against her leg. He placed a wet kiss there, followed by a long swipe of his tongue.

Cassie sat up, genuinely startled. "What--what are you doing?"

Derek cocked an eyebrow at her. "Can't I give you some pleasure for a change?"

"Oh--well... I suppose." This was not going at all the way she had expected. She had simply hoped to be able to get his mind off of the fact that she'd beaned him with a frying pan--and, off of questions about Spencer--and here he was acting as if they really were lovers.

But she lay back again, letting him do as he wished. He took her in his mouth and began sucking, making her hard in spite of her reluctance. He reached for the lube, and slicked his fingers before sliding one into her. He probed until she moaned and wriggled against his hand, and he stroked inside her, eliciting a soft cry.

He put his mouth on her again, alternating teasing licks with deep pulls that took her down his throat. He liked tasting her, liked the way she moved with him. He felt her getting close, then stopped and looked up; she had a delightfully flushed appearance, and she opened her eyes and looked back at him in wonder. "Oh, my," she whispered.

"Like that?" he asked.

She nodded.

He knelt between her legs, put on a condom and applied the lube, then grasped her hips and pulled her butt up onto his thighs. He took his cock and pushed in a few inches, then withdrew slowly and watched her face. He did it again. Her eyes never left his and after a moment, she wriggled against him as if to urge him in more quickly. He refused to speed up and she made a soft huff of frustration.

"Now, Detective Morgan, you stop teasing me. Come on, sugar, your big black dick is one of the few joys I have in my life, how about letting me have the whole gorgeous thing at once, would you?"

He chuckled. "Well--yes, ma'am, if you say so." He pulled back, then thrust in hard, burying himself inside her. "How's that?"

"That--is wonderful," she sighed, caressing his face. "Now, fuck me for real, Detective. I need it."

"But, I wanted us to take our time, I wanted to please you--"

"You are. You are, sweetheart. It feels so good. Please--just do it. All I ask is that you give me a little kiss once in a while. I like kissing you, baby. I--I really like kissing you." She searched his eyes for something--mockery, contempt, brutality--ugly things that seemed to come out in her clients when she least expected it.

But, she found nothing but tenderness, and he did as she asked, savoring the sweetness of her mouth as he thrust into her heat and took her hardness in his hand. Cassie crossed her wrists behind his neck, losing herself in the way he was moving inside her, listening as he murmured in her ear, an encouragement, an endearment. He held her tightly and told her that she was beautiful.

She felt like crying. No one had ever loved her this way, no one had ever made her feel so treasured in her life, and she buried her face in his neck as pleasure overtook her and she came, pulsing in his hand.

He stroked her until she was still. Then he began thrusting hard and fast, and he cried out when he reached his own release. Afterward, he rolled onto his back and pulled Cassie into his arms. He wondered if she felt safe with him, and he wondered if she was right--if Spencer really would remember. And, if he'd understand.

God, he hoped so.

**A/N: Did you like? Please review! ;)**


	4. In the Morning

*****

Derek slept like a dead man. It took brutal sunlight flooding in through an open window to wake him. He shielded his eyes, fought to open them, and found that he was alone in Cassie's rumpled bed. The back of his head hurt, but the swelling had diminished and once he forced himself to sit up, he felt a little better.

He could hear water running in the shower. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the bathroom door; he wanted to pee, but didn't think he should intrude on his host's--hostess's?--privacy. He sat under the covers, mulling over what had happened the night before, and soon he heard the water being turned off.

After a few moments, Spencer shuffled out of the bathroom. His hair fell in wet strands around his face, giving him a drowned puppy look. All trace of makeup was gone and with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, his skinny, angular frame held none of the illusion of soft femininity that Cassie somehow managed to create.

He appeared to be absorbed in thought as he padded barefoot around the bed headed toward his dresser, but he stopped short when Derek raised a hand in greeting.

"Morning."

The boy looked uncertain, then answered, "Good morning." He gave a small nod, then continued to his dresser. Derek watched him open a drawer and take out boxers and socks. Another drawer held neatly folded jeans and another, shirts. He chose one of each, piled them in his arms and headed toward the bathroom again, only to see Derek roll out from under the covers, naked.

Derek brought his arms over his head, leaned back and stretched. Spencer took in the details of his powerful body--warm brown skin, well-defined muscles, broad shoulders, a slim waist, a thick cock flanked by heavy balls.

The man was sexy, Spencer grasped that. He understood what Cassie saw in him. But for him, the good things about sex were all mixed up with fear and pain, with desperation and guilt and shame; looking at Derek Morgan's naked body simply confused him, made him anxious, and he hastily looked away. Even though he did like looking at him...

His thoughts were shut down by Derek's voice.

"Uh--would you mind if I ran in there real quick?" Derek asked, tipping his head in the direction of the bathroom.

"Oh--no. Go ahead." He took another look at Derek, blinked and dropped his eyes. He clutched the clothes even closer to his bare chest. Spencer's obvious discomfort made Derek feel embarrassed, much to his annoyance. He grabbed his underwear, slipped it on, then strode off to take care of his morning business, leaving Spencer to quickly slide into his own clothes and go on a hunt for his shoes.

By the time Derek came back, Spencer was completely dressed and standing in the kitchen making coffee. Derek pulled on his pants and shirt, zipping and buttoning as he walked. Spencer glanced at him as he poured water from the faucet into the pot.

"Uh--how's your head, Detective?"

"Fine. A little sore, but fine." Derek regarded his host and smiled slightly. He tried to catch Spencer's eye, but he was studiously checking the water against the cup measurement line. "Are you--ok?"

"Uh-huh."

Derek went to him and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. Spencer pulled back, holding the coffee pot defensively in front of himself. Derek frowned and pointed back and forth between them.

"Are we ok?"

"Huh?"

"You and me. After last night."

Spencer turned back to the coffee maker. "What do you mean?"

Derek felt a thread of irritation rising in his throat.

"I mean, we spent the night together, are you ok with that?"

The boy poured the water into the tank and shrugged. "What you and Cassie do together is your business."

Derek stared, then pursed his lips in annoyance. He jabbed a finger at him.

"Ok kid, now, this is just bullshit. Don't play with me. I know you use Cassie to get through the tough stuff, but you can't tell me that you just check out entirely. What happened last night, happened between _us_--you and me--and if I fucked up, you need to tell me so. Just be straight with me, we'll talk it through and work it out."

Spencer switched on the coffee pot, then turned, leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. He still refused to meet Derek's eyes. "I've got a lot to do today. Maybe you should leave."

Derek forced himself to uncurl his suddenly-clenched fists. "I'm not leaving until I have some answers. Like, why you never called me back the way you said you would."

"I've been busy."

"Oh, yeah? What happened, did a busload of johns turn up on your doorstep every day this week?"

At that, the boy finally looked directly at him and Derek saw a flash of anger. "Look, I told you, I just want to be left alone. Date Cassie if you want. She's apparently willing to fuck you for free nowadays. But, leave me out of it." He turned back to the counter and began spooning sugar into his coffee cup, and Derek saw that his hands shook. He smiled bitterly.

"Miss having your fix last night?"

A scornful glance. "I didn't miss anything."

_Shit. _"Wait--you dosed up last night? After promising me you wouldn't?"

"Cassie promised. I didn't."

Derek licked his lips and nodded. "I see. Well, it's a good thing you've got this all 'under control...'"

"I couldn't sleep. I kept wondering if you'd lapsed into a coma--"

"Oh, so, it's my fault?" Derek gave a humorless laugh and shook his head. _Junkies. Always the same with junkies._

"No, I just--never mind." Spencer poured a second cup of coffee and pushed it into Derek's hand. "Here. Drink your coffee and go."

Derek took the cup and said, "I'm not going anywhere."

Spencer threw a hand up in frustration. "What do you want from me?"

"The same thing I've been asking for all along--a chance."

"Yeah, right. A chance to do what? To fuck me without the makeup on?"

"No! I keep telling you--"

"You want to talk about bullshit? I know what this is really about--why can't you just admit it?"

"It's not! I just want to help you--"

Spencer shook his head in mock disbelief. "Oh, my God, you can't even admit it to yourself, can you? Ok, how about if you let _me_ help _you? _Let's just do it. Let's do it right now. Come on, we'll see how interested you are in 'helping' me afterwards." He slammed his coffee down on the counter, spilling most of it, and started unzipping his pants. Derek quickly put down his cup as well and caught his hands in his.

"Stop it. Stop it, kid--"

"No, I want to! I want you to fuck me--"

"No--"

"I want you to do it to me, just like you do it to Cassie. Come on, come on, Detective, I'm just another drugged-up whore to you, so fuck me! Let's get it over with, then you can leave me alone--"

"No! Stop it--stop. I told you--I told you that's not what I want. Stop it--"

He wrestled the boy's hands up to his chest and pulled him into his arms, enveloping him in a bear-like embrace and said into his ear, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said those things, I'm sorry." Spencer struggled frantically against him but couldn't break free. He finally gave up and slumped against Derek, his breathing hard and ragged. "Just let me go," he whispered.

Derek held him and rocked back and forth slightly, rubbing his back. "No. I'm _not_ going to let you go. It's ok. It's ok, Spencer, calm down. I'm sorry. I know I fucked up. I should have gone home last night, I shouldn't have stayed, I shouldn't have--"

Spencer pulled back far enough to look him in the eye, wet hair hanging in his face, his mouth contorted from fighting back tears. His voice was strained and raw. "No, it's ok. Cassie wanted you to stay."

Derek dropped his hold while still keeping contact, and sighed. "Yeah--but, what did _you_ want me to do?"

Spencer shook his head. "I wasn't here."

Derek felt as if he were swimming in Jell-o. He searched Spencer's eyes and saw that he wasn't pretending--he really believed he had been removed from the events of the night before. Derek suddenly understood one thing--he was not equipped to deal with the depth of Spencer's psychological damage. But, he couldn't just walk away, couldn't leave the boy convinced that he only wanted to use him.

He didn't know what to do, so he did the only thing he could think of. He brushed the hair away from Spencer's eyes and said gently, "What movie do you want to see?"

"Huh?"

"You said you'd go out with me. I'm off today--so, let's make a day of it."

"No, I--"

Frustration flooded through Derek to the point of making him want to scream. Instead, he took a deep breath and spoke as if to a balky child. "Let me explain something to you, kid. I am taking your goddamn skinny little white-boy ass to a movie. I'm buying you a box of popcorn. Afterwards, I'll take you to lunch and we'll discuss the goddamn movie. Maybe we'll like it, maybe we'll hate it, or maybe we'll disagree and argue about it like goddamn Siskel and Ebert, but at the very least, we're going to have a real, live conversation.

"Then, I'm going to take you to a pool hall and we'll drink beer and play a few games, and I'll beat you good. After that, I'll drop you off at your place, and I'll go home and watch the game. No funny stuff from me, no thinking I'm trying to get in your pants from you. Now--questions? Concerns? Want to argue with me, pretty boy? Because, at this point, you've just about exhausted my patience." Derek stared unflinchingly into the bewildered brown eyes, then stepped back and made a gesture of finality with his hands.

Spencer stayed quiet for a few moments after Derek finished his rant. He crossed his arms again, chafing himself as if he were trying to warm up and gave him a sideways glance.

"You really just want to go to a movie with me?"

"I want a lot of things, Spencer. But, more than anything, I want you to trust me." He took the boy's face in his hands. "What happened last night--I'm sorry about it. I don't understand your relationship with Cassie, so you'll have to help me there. All I know is that I want to know who you are, and I don't want to hurt you. And, I hope I can prove that to you."

A weak smile crossed Spencer's face. "And you think all that will happen with popcorn and the magic of cinema?"

Derek grinned as he dropped his hands. "I don't know about that, but it's a start. Now, come on, what do you want to see?" Spencer chewed his lip thoughtfully then looked back at Derek.

"Well... there's a new Star Trek movie that just came out. I-I kind of wanted to see that."

Derek sighed in relief. "Excellent. Why don't you check the show times and I'll finish getting ready?"

"Ok." Spencer's smile suddenly deepened and his voice took on a teasing tone. "Oh, and about beating me at pool?"

"Yeah?"

"We'll see about that."

Derek's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Oh, you think you're a hustler?"

A shrug. "I'm pretty good."

"I've got twenty bucks that says I can take you down in two plays."

"You're on." Still smiling, Spencer went to his computer and checked the movie times while Derek finished dressing. Spencer found a jacket and the two headed out to the multi-plex.

*****


	5. First Date

The pair sat over lunch in a nearby sports bar and, as Derek had foretold, they discussed the movie. Derek kept the conversation moving, opining on the hotness of the various alien women, and Spencer spent several minutes explaining why certain concepts featured in the movie were scientifically impossible.

"Well, I don't know about all that, but that warp speed deal gets me every time," Derek said between bites of his steak sandwich. He noted that the more Spencer talked, the more confident and at ease he seemed to become.

"Um, well, it's a fun idea, but ludicrously far-fetched as far as real life is concerned."

"Is it?"

"Of course. Applying what we know about general relativity, it is possible in principle. I mean, you can expand space behind you and contract it in front of you and therefore go quickly from one place to another across the galaxy. But the amount of energy required to do that would be just unfathomable."

Derek stared, but continued to chew, his brow furrowed. "You really understand stuff like that--general relativity, astrophysics, and such?"

Spencer looked up from his chicken strip basket and shrugged. "Well, it's an interest of mine. I could recommend some books for you, if you'd like--"

"No, that's ok. I'd rather just listen to you talk about it." Derek smiled and Spencer tried to discern if he razzing him, decided he wasn't, and awkwardly smiled back.

"Oh. Well, I can speak at some length on a number of scientific subjects, what are you interested in?"

"You."

Spencer made a dismissive gesture. "Aren't you the persistent one. Sorry, that's a subject I'm definitely _not_ interested in discussing."

"You said last night--"

"Cassie said."

_Damn it. _Derek paused before continuing his thought. "Yeah--Cassie said you graduated from high school at age twelve. That must have been--difficult."

"It sucked. Just because one is intelligent enough to do the work, that doesn't mean he's emotionally or psychologically mature enough to interact successfully with people several years older. It was very trying."

"But, you survived. That took courage and a lot of social skills--"

"It took a lot of being able to run fast. Look, Detective, I appreciate your attempts to build up my self-esteem, but I'm under no illusions about my strengths and weaknesses. I actually have a very healthy ego, maybe too much so. But, I'd really rather discuss the iffy nature of scientific principles in the movies than myself, if you don't mind."

"Derek."

Spencer looked lost. "Excuse me?"

"My name's Derek, you don't have to call me 'Detective' all the time."

"Derek. Ok." He took a final bite of chicken and glanced at the game area. "Well--are you ready to be bested in pool, Derek?"

"Oh, I am. I definitely am. Let's go."

*****

They claimed a table and Derek got them set up. He allowed Spencer to clumsily make the break, and the first game went much as he had expected--the skinny young man moved awkwardly, and there was no power behind his shots, although he got what was probably more than an average number of lucky balls into the pockets. When Derek put the last ball away, he smirked triumphantly and slapped the kid on the back.

"All right, buddy, half way there! Now, would you like to double your bet for the best of three?"

Spencer looked uncertain. "You mean, whoever wins two games out of three wins forty dollars instead of twenty?"

"That's what I mean."

"Uh--well, you're pretty good. Better than I thought you'd be. But--what the heck, ok."

Derek chortled. then whistled as he set up the table again. The play continued as it had in the previous game, and Spencer missed a shot at just about mid-point. Derek put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "All right, Spence, I'm afraid you're about to learn a hard lesson about the world of gambling and pool. Here we go."

Derek strode confidently around the table, looking for the optimum shot. He noted with a twinge of discomfort that there wasn't a single "sure thing" anywhere. He settled for one that looked relatively easy, but missed. Frowning, he turned the table over to Spencer and watched in a combination of amazement and disgust as Spencer proceeded to clean up the table with elegant, powerful shots. When he was finished, he rocked back on his heels, rested his hands on his upright pool cue, and looked at Derek.

"Want to double your bet?" he asked innocently.

Derek squinted at him. "No. You conniving little bastard. Here." He pulled forty dollars out of his wallet and handed it to Spencer.

"This was supposed to be the best of three, don't you want to play another game before conceding?"

"No, I don't need the humiliation, thank you very much."

"Oh, well, ok. I did give you fair warning."

"You played poorly on purpose."

"Nice alliteration. But, yes, I did. Thought you might be grateful for a hard lesson in the world of gambling and pool." Spencer made a show of tucking the cash carefully into his wallet and grinned cheerfully at Derek.

Derek pursed his lips, but had a hard time hiding his admiration as he asked, "Where'd you learn to play like that?"

"I have a deep understanding of, and appreciation for, the basic principles of physics--linear motion, kinetic energy, torque and the like. That, combined with careful observation of my opponent's weak points--yours is over-confidence, by the way--and the patience to stick to a plan of strategy tend to give me a bit of an advantage." He slyly raised an eyebrow and added, "Plus, I grew up in Las Vegas and spent a lot of time in bars when I was a kid."

That was the most personal bit of information Spencer had volunteered to him yet and despite feeling like a chump, Derek smiled, enjoying the tiny victory.

*****

Spencer tried to persuade Derek to play another game of pool with him, but had no luck. Instead, they killed a few hours drinking beer and talking. Derek let Spencer guide the discussion, so they talked mostly about Derek's family, his work and the frustrations he was struggling with. Spencer turned out to be a good listener and Derek found himself feeling strangely unburdened by the time it got dark.

"Well, kid, you probably need to get home. You said you had a lot to do today."

"Oh, yeah--well, I was kind of exaggerating. Although, I do have some homework to do."

"Homework?" Derek smiled. Another bit of information.

"Yeah, I try to take a class every semester, I'm working on a degree in chemistry. It's kind of slow-going, but I enjoy it."

"Is the work hard?"

"Oh, no. It's just--money, you know. I can't really afford to just go and get it done, so it seems like it's been dragging on forever. But, I'll get there one of these days." He smiled shyly and stood up, and Derek rose also, then went to the bar to pay their tab. He wondered how much money it would take to get Spencer that degree, and what he would do with it if he had it. He shrugged and he and Spencer headed to the car.

The time had passed so pleasantly that Derek forgot all about comparing Spencer to Cassie and the weird nature of their relationship until they arrived at Spencer's apartment. He glanced up at the window where he'd met Cassie's frying pan the night before, then at the handsome young man sitting beside him, and tried yet again to wrap his mind around the fact that two personalities apparently inhabited his body.

He thought of Cassie's grace and confidence as he watched Spencer fumble to unbuckle his seat belt, and decided it was a useless effort. Just trying was making him crazy--well, crazier. _Great. We're perfect for each other,_ he thought ruefully as he leaned over and popped the belt open. Spencer mumbled his thanks and put one hand on the door handle then looked back at Derek, clearly trying to think of something else to say. Derek let him off the hook.

"So, kid--was this so bad?"

Spencer laughed. "No, it was fun! The movie was great, and I guess you'll never want to play pool with me again, but--"

"Oh, I will, I'll just know better than to bet against you."

"Yeah--well, anyway, it was all a lot of fun. I--I really had a good time, uh, Derek." The name still seemed to stick in his throat, but he was becoming accustomed to using it. "I really don't have a lot of friends, you know. Cassie does, but... I don't go out much, so this was a real treat for me. Thank you." He smiled at Derek, and he smiled back.

"Well, I had a good time, too. The question is, will you go out with me again?"

Spencer looked down and nodded. "Sure. Call me. I really will call you back this time, I promise."

"Ok." Unthinkingly, Derek leaned over to kiss him, and Spencer shrank back. Derek blinked. _Stupid, stupid_. He muttered, "Sorry, kid. Didn't mean to--"

"It's ok. It's just, we're out here in public, didn't think you'd want to--"

"Yeah, yeah, you're right, of course. My bad."

Spencer sat for a moment longer, biting his lip. Then he said, "You can come up if you want."

Derek looked at him. Even in the dim evening light he could see that the tension had returned to the boy's posture, and nervousness showed in his face.

"No, that's ok. I bet you're tired, I know I am. I think I'll just go on home and crash. I'll see you later, ok?"

Spencer looked relieved and he smiled. "Ok. See you." He got out of the car and trotted to the stairs and took them, two at a time. Derek waited until he had unlocked his door and disappeared inside before pulling away from the curb.

He drove towards his own home and caught a glimpse of himself frowning in the rearview mirror. All in all, the day had been a success, although he wasn't any more clear on how to help the kid than he had been in the morning.

And, why had he tried to kiss him? It hadn't even been a sexual gesture, it just--it had felt so right to reach for him, to touch him. He'd have to watch himself with that. The kid wasn't ready, and maybe he never would be.

He had to decide if he could live with that.

******

A/N: I swiped Spencer's remarks about warp speed from:

**Lawrence Krauss, author of **_**The Physics of Star Trek**_

_**.?id=star-trek-movie-science**_


	6. Desperately Seeking Information

**Happy Valentine's Day!!**

*****

Derek Morgan sat at his computer, typing various word combinations into the search engine. "Spencer", "kidnap", "Las Vegas"...

It was something he had been reluctant to do, preferring to be up front about his desire for more information. But, he'd had no luck with gently prying the story out of Spencer himself, certainly no more than he'd had with asking him questions point blank. It had been three weeks; they'd gone out five times, and he still didn't have so much as his last name.

Five dates, Derek thought with a grin. The day after that first reluctant one, he'd called the boy, partly to see if he would actually return his call and partly to see how he was doing. To his surprise, the phone had rung in his hand before he could even slip it back into his pocket. The response to his semi-gruff "Morgan here" was a shy "Hi. It's, uh, me, Spencer. I'm... calling you back."

Derek had barely been able to form a recognizable word due to the well of emotion in his throat. He'd been sure he'd have to physically round Spencer up again if he ever hoped to talk to him, sure that the weak bond of trust he'd so carefully begun to nurture had already been severed by his thoughtless attempt at a kiss.

But, there he had been, having a frustratingly stilted conversation with the kid, who responded to his questions with guarded, mostly one-word answers.

"Well, damn! You sure are calling me back, pretty boy! So, how're you doing?"

"Fine."

"Great! Everything going ok?"

"Uh-huh."

Derek waited for an additional comment--a perfunctory statement of the boy's current condition, some reiteration of his own question, some sort of adjoining sounds or syllables that Derek could hang a follow-up question upon, anything--but he got nothing.

He took another stab at it.

"So, you had a good time yesterday?"

"Yes. I did."

Silence.

"Well, good. I did too."

Silence.

"So--I'm off on Wednesday."

Nothing.

"Think you might want to get together then?"

"Um..."

Derek could almost hear the shrug, followed by more silence.

"Spencer--I'm asking if you want to go out."

"Well--I do laundry on Wednesdays."

"I see. You do laundry all day long?"

"Oh... um, no... I also do housework and pay bills."

Derek had rolled his eyes.

"Come on, kid, you said you had a good time. Let's do something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know! What do you like to do for fun?"

"I read books."

Derek had pinched the bridge of his nose to the point of pain. "Ok. But, if you were to go out for fun, what would you do?"

"I'd go to the library."

Derek had almost thrown the phone across the room, then got a hold of himself.

"Ok, but what if you and I decided to spend the day together? What would you like to do then?"

"I don't know..."

Derek had sighed, then brightened.

"Hey, I know, have you ever done any of the touristy stuff in this town?"

"Huh?"

"You know, wandered around Jackson Square, had beignets at Cafe du Monde, gone on a ghost tour, stuff like that?"

"Uh--no."

"Well, me neither. Let's do it."

Silence. Then, "Really?"

"Yeah! It'll be fun. I'll pick you up around noon. Ok?"

"Uh--ok."

Thus had Derek managed to wangle his second date with Spencer.

And, it had been a damned good time. Spencer had an apparently unending knowledge of New Orleans' history, from the time the pirate Jean LaFitte first began navigating goods along the swamps from Barataria Bay into the town, right through to the present day's governmental wrangling over hurricane aid mismanagement.

Derek had enjoyed occasionally forcing the kid to drop the history lesson in favor of watching street performers and musicians, and strolling along the riverside with a frozen daquiri in hand, snapping silly pictures of each other with a disposable camera.

The day had ended much as the first one did, with a resigned offer for Derek to come upstairs with him, which Derek had gently refused--winning him another real smile and a promise to answer if he should call again. Which, of course, he did. Twice. And each time, it became a little easier, for both of them.

The real moment of triumph had come that very afternoon when Derek's phone rang and he recognized the number.

"Spencer? Is that you?" he'd asked in wonder.

"Uh, yeah. Hi, Derek. How are you?"

"I'm--fine, are you ok?"

"Yes. I just heard that there's going to be an interview on public radio tonight with that ball player that you're so fond of. I thought you might want to hear it."

Derek's smile had gone into overdrive.

"Well--thanks, I appreciate your letting me know. I'll be sure to listen."

"Ok. Well, I've got to go. I just wanted to tell you that."

"Ok. Hey, Spencer?"

"Uh-huh?"

"You can call me anytime. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. I-I know. Bye."

"Bye, kid."

It had been like a Christmas present.

And, it made Derek all the more determined to figure out how to help the boy get off the drugs and out of the life. There had to be a way, and he knew Spencer's past was the key. He knew there was more to the boy's tragic story than Cassie had revealed.

But the damn search engine wasn't returning anything useful.

Derek had tried other sneaky methods--one night at a bar, he'd actually pickpocketed the kid's wallet, only to find a very good, but--obvious to his trained eye--fake ID with the name "Joshua A. Norton" on it, along with Spencer's picture and a birth date signifying his age as twenty-four. The wallet had contained a library card (in Norton's name), some cash, the stub from the Star Trek movie, an expired coupon to a local fast food place, and nothing else. With a disgusted sneer on his face, Derek had handed the wallet back to Spencer when he returned from the bathroom. He'd received it without a hint of surprise.

"Find anything of interest, Detective?"

"No, 'Joshua'. Somehow, I have a feeling that when I run that name tomorrow, I still won't know anything more about you than I do right now."

Spencer had merely smiled as he slipped his wallet back into his pocket. Derek was quiet for a moment as he contemplated the placid expression on his companion's face. Finally, he couldn't stand it.

"So, who the hell is Joshua A. Norton?"

Spencer's grin deepened. "Uh--he was the self-proclaimed emperor of the United States."

"What?"

"Yeah, he lived in San Francisco and called himself 'His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Norton I'. Mark Twain used him as a model for his character, 'The King' in 'Huckleberry Finn.'"

"He thought he was an emperor?"

"And, Protector of Mexico."

"Jeeze."

"He issued his own currency."

"You're kidding."

"No, and they honored it at his favorite restaurants. He tried to dissolve the U.S. Congress. And, the Army gave him a uniform and he spent his days walking around inspecting the conditions of the streets and cable cars in San Francisco. And, he was a philosopher, given to expounding upon his ideas to people he passed on the street. He was very eccentric."

"I'd call that crazy."

"There's a thin line between the two."

Derek regarded Spencer and narrowed his eyes.

"Is he your role model or something?"

"I don't know about that, but I wouldn't mind having a great author use me as a model for a character in a book."

Derek shook his head.

"Is your name really Spencer?"

"Yes."

"What's your last name?"

"You know, had you not pulled your pathetic little attempt to put one over on me, I might have been willing to tell you."

"Pathetic! I'm a damn good pick-pocket, I'll have you know."

"You're clumsy and obvious."

"Oh, yeah? Like you could do any better."

Spencer had taken a sip of his beer, reached in his breast pocket and thrown Derek's driver's license and credit cards onto the counter, then given him a small smile.

Derek had stared at the cards for a long moment, then pursed his lips. "So, you're a thief on top of everything else?" he'd asked sulkily as he replaced the items in his wallet.

"Nope. Magician."

Derek had watched in amusement as Spencer asked the bartender for a deck of cards and proceeded to do card tricks for Derek and a little group of impressed on-lookers.

Afterward, it had been damned difficult not to drag the kid back to the back room and kiss the heck out of him for being so cute.

But, he'd never wormed his last name out of him.

He'd even tried lifting his fingerprints off of a glass he'd swiped from the bar, but IAFIS had nothing on him, much to his amazement. He'd been sure the poor kid would have been picked up somewhere along the way for soliciting or drugs or _something_, but no.

He knew he was smart, but Derek had no idea he was that smart.

Cassie had said Spencer was sixteen when he was kidnapped. Derek added the date range to his search parameters and as he scrolled down the short list of results, he saw a link to the Las Vegas Sun, a local paper serving the greater Las Vegas area.

The article was listed under "Criminal Activity" and said only that a local sixteen-year-old boy had been abducted and eventually rescued due to the excellent work of the LVPD. It named the perpetrator and said he had died in the course of the rescue; his adult son, thought to be implicated in the crime, died later as a result of his injuries.

It added that, in accordance with the paper's policy on releasing the names of rape victims, the boy's name was being withheld.

A cold punch of anger hit Derek in the gut. Cassie hadn't been specific about exactly what Spencer had endured, of course; even so, Derek had read between the lines. But now, seeing the confirmation in print, it got to him. He'd seen horrendous things in his career; the thought of gentle Spencer being subjected to abuse, particularly sexual abuse, turned his stomach.

No wonder the kid couldn't stand to be touched.

No wonder Cassie handled the hard stuff.

*****

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	7. No Answer

Three days later...

It was Derek's twelfth call in thirty-six hours and Spencer still hadn't called him back. Derek scrolled through his 'missed calls' screen, saw nothing, and snapped his cell phone shut. He stared at the unresponsive device, wishing he could just thrust his hand into it, reach through the air and pull Spencer back safely into the room with him.

He'd been mildly concerned on the first day, and ran through the meetings and conversations he'd had with Spencer, trying to think of anything he might have said or done to disturb the kid, of any words or gestures that would make him back away from him, but nothing came to mind.

He'd begun to seriously worry on the second day, and by now, he was feeling stabs of dread. He and Spencer had avoided discussing Cassie and the work she did; they also steered away from talking about Spencer's Dilaudid habit, other than a few oblique references on Derek's part to an excellent rehab program he knew of in another state. He'd also taken to discreetly leaving print-outs of the local Narcotics Anonymous meeting times and places in strategic places for him.

But, he'd left no doubt in Spencer's mind that he was hyper-aware of the dangers inherent in those aspects of his life, and that he counted on Spencer's calls to keep his mind at ease. And Spencer had been surprisingly cooperative, never letting him go more than a few hours without a response, or sending him at least a quick text or a "Hey, I'm ok," voice message.

Thirty-six hours was too long.

After he got off work, he drove to Spencer's apartment, again parking where he had a view of his window. There was no movement for over ten minutes. Instinct told him that something was wrong, so he got out, strode purposefully up the stairs, unmindful of the creaks, and knocked sharply on the door.

No answer. Images of Spencer lying dead or unconscious ran through his mind, and he knocked again, increasing the volume.

"Spencer? Spencer, are you home? Answer the door, buddy." He pressed his ear to the wood and heard something like a chair being pushed across the wood floor. He felt a surge of relief and rapped again.

"I hear you in there. Come on, open the door, it's Derek."

Still no response.

"Spencer! Open the damn door! Don't make me kick it in..."

Just then he heard the lock being turned, and the door swung open and Cassie stood before him wearing her robe. Her smudged makeup failed to cover a large purple bruise under one eye, the abrasion on her chin or the cut on her lip. One wrist had a dirty bandage around it. She stood in the doorway, one hand on her hip, and she looked tired and drawn.

"Detective Morgan, for heaven's sake, do stop making such a racket and get in here." Cassie stepped aside and allowed Derek to walk in, too shocked at first to speak.

"What--what the hell--"

"Now, I'm sorry I didn't answer the door right away, I was trying to take a little nap. Can I get you something? Iced tea? Maybe a beer?"

"What happened to you?"

Cassie ignored the question and was about to walk toward the kitchen when Derek caught her upper arm and pulled her back to him. She winced, but he tugged at the tie at her waist and pushed away the robe. She was wearing a slip underneath, but he could see more bruising on her neck, and when he yanked the garment away from her shoulders, he saw that fingertip-shaped black bruises dotted her left upper arm.

"Now, stop that, Detective! Stop. I'm fine. I don't know what you think you're doing--"

"I want to know how badly you're hurt."

"I'm fine, just some silly bruises, they'll be gone in a few days. Now, if you're going to stay, sit down like a civilized person, would you please?"

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"If you'll sit down, yes," she said, measuring her words.

Derek, fuming, finally took a seat at the table and Cassie joined him. "Are you sure you don't want some tea, or water--"

"Just tell me what happened!"

"Well, all right. I stupidly tried to go downstairs after dark without a flashlight. I missed a step and fell. That's all."

"Bullshit."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"Yes, I am. Now, tell me what really happened."

Cassie sat back, twiddling a bread tie that had been left on the table. She licked the cut on her lip before speaking. "One of my clients and I had a little disagreement about--terms of service."

"Really."

"Yes. He... he wanted to tie me up. I politely explained that I do not participate in that sort of thing, never have, never will--Spencer couldn't handle it, and I don't care for the notion, myself--and he became a bit... agitated. I had to show him the door. And--he didn't want to leave." Cassie refused to raise her eyes and Derek reached over and gently pulled her chin to face him.

"He beat you."

She shrugged.

Derek tried to keep his voice from shaking with rage. "He raped you."

Cassie narrowed her eyes. "No, sir. He did _not_." Her voice was like steel.

Derek closed his eyes. "Thank God for that."

"Yes, well, I've found that God helps those that help themselves." Cassie reached into the pocket of her robe and brought out a small-caliber pistol. "The bastard took one look at my little toy and scampered away, just like that."

Derek groaned. "Cassie! What the hell do you think you're doing with a weapon?"

"I have to protect myself, Detective, and I have to protect Spencer. I don't care about a few bumps and bruises, but if a client tries to do some serious damage, he will find himself on the receiving end of a little lead poisoning." She examined the gun fondly and put it back in her pocket.

"Do you have a permit for that thing?"

"No. Are you going to arrest me?"

"No..." Derek smiled slightly. "I'm kind of proud of you, actually. But, it's dangerous having a gun in the house if you don't know how to use it."

"Oh, I know how, don't you worry about that. After that burglary, Myra and I spent a couple of afternoons out at the gun range and I must say, I'm a pretty fair shot."

Derek rubbed his chin and said, "I don't doubt it. But, still. This is too dangerous, Cassie. I want to talk to Spencer."

Cassie looked at him. "He's not here, Detective," she said softly.

"I know. Get him here."

She laughed. "Well, let me buzz his office, I'll see if he's in. Honestly, Detective, do you think we have some sort of sonar communication system going on between us? That I can emit some high-frequency beeps and squeaks, and he'll just pop right up? I suppose I could try to tap out some Morse code, or leave a trail of bread crumbs for him, but in my experience, I'm afraid it doesn't work that way." She ran a hand through her hair and stared out the window, still smiling.

Derek moved his chair closer to hers and took her chin in his hand again. He made her raise her eyes to his and said, "Spencer. I need to talk to you. Come on, talk to me, kid." Cassie's eyes crinkled into gentle amusement.

"Detective, I don't know how to make this any plainer, but this isn't going to work. I can't summon the boy at a moment's notice, and neither can you."

"Well, then, when do you think he'll come back?" Derek asked in frustration.

"I--I don't know," Cassie said. She fiddled idly with the belt on her robe.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"Well, normally, I just go to sleep. When I come back, it's another day and I can remember everything that Spencer did. But, I don't--I don't have any way to talk to him." She knit her brows and looked at Derek. "And, you know Detective, I'm actually beginning to worry about him a little bit."

"You are?"

"Yes--it's been three days, and he hasn't been around."

Derek searched Cassie's eyes. "What do you mean, he hasn't been around?"

"I-I don't know. He hasn't come back. I kind of... don't know what to do, to tell you the truth." He could hear an uncharacteristic waver of uncertainty in her voice.

Derek assessed Cassie's manner, her words, her behavior and decided she was telling the truth. He spoke soothingly.

"Ok, now, let's take this slowly. You say Spencer hasn't come back in three days. Has he ever been gone this long before?"

Cassie shook her head.

"You're scared."

"I-I don't know. I... I've never been on my own this long, is all. And, I'm afraid he's going to have some overdue bills." She turned to give Derek a meaningful look.

"Bills?"

Cassie grinned crookedly around the cut on her lip. "Why, yes, Detective, surely you don't think he lets little old me deal with all that nasty money stuff, do you? I just bring it in, Spencer spends it."

Derek got up and walked to the desk. There were notebooks, writing paper, pens and pencils, stamps and envelopes, but no sign of bills or receipts anywhere.

"Where does he keep the bills, Cassie?"

"Oh, uh--over there, somewhere," she said, waving a hand at the desk. Derek tried to open a drawer, but it was locked.

"Do you have a key?"

"Oh! Yes, I do. Let's see..." Cassie went to a cabinet in her kitchen and brought out a key ring. She went to the desk and opened it.

Derek opened the top drawer and found a neatly organized bill-paying station. He took a deep breath and began sorting through them. One side had bills to be paid, the other, receipts. And, there was a checkbook. He picked it up, fully expecting to see "Joshua A. Norton" printed on it, but the name on the checks was "Spencer Reid." Derek said the name out loud, savoring it.

Cassie was standing close beside him, peering over his shoulder. "Can you tell if anything's overdue?"

"Uh--" He flipped through the "to be paid" side. There was only a water bill due later in the month and something from what appeared to be a medical facility in Las Vegas, due in a couple of weeks.

"'Bennington Sanitarium.' What's this?" he asked Cassie.

"Oh, Lord, I don't know. I haven't a clue as to what Spencer spends his money on. Not clothes, that's for sure," she muttered to herself.

Derek examined the bill more carefully. "Who's Diana Reid?"

"Diana? I... I don't know." Cassie's voice sounded distant and Derek turned to look at her. She sat on the edge of the bed and had a lost expression on her face.

Derek sat down next to her and spoke gently. "You say Spencer comes back while you're asleep. Have you been sleeping well?"

"N-no, to tell you the truth." She stared down at the floor, absently rubbing her injured wrist. "Every time I'm about to slip off--I hear something, or I remember..."

Derek pursed his lips, hating to ask what he needed to ask. "What about the Dilaudad? Didn't that help?"

Cassie shook her head. "I haven't used it. I had to stay alert. I keep thinking that bastard will come back." She glanced at him, then whispered, "He said he was going to come back."

"Cassie--why didn't you call me?"

"I--I know you want Spencer, Detective. I didn't want to, you know, confuse the issue." She looked at him and he could see pain in the dark brown eyes. _Spencer's eyes, _he thought_. _He carefully smoothed a lock of hair from her face and smiled slightly.

"I appreciate that, but this is different. I want you to call me anytime you need help, especially if you're hurt or frightened--this looks bad, is your wrist broken?"

"Just sprained, I think."

"Did you go to a doctor?"

She shook her head. "It's really nothing, Detective."

"You know, I got Spencer to call me Derek. Do you think you could, too?"

"Derek." She sounded as if she were in a trance.

He slipped an arm around her shoulders and carefully hugged her. "I think you need to get some sleep. Why don't you lie down and relax? I'll stay here overnight--I can sleep in the chair. No one's going to hurt you anymore, I'll make sure of that."

"That's very... kind of you, Det--Derek. But, you shouldn't worry about me, I can take care of myself..."

"I know. But, I think you'll sleep better if I stay, and maybe Spencer can come back. Right?"

"Mm." She smiled. "All right, Derek. But, you won't be comfortable in that chair. You can sleep here in the bed, with me. Don't worry, I'll behave myself. I promise." She looked earnestly into his eyes and Derek nodded.

"Ok. But, there's something we have to do, first." He stood and took her hand. He led her to the bathroom.

"What are we doing, Derek?" she asked, bewildered.

"I don't think Spencer would like it if I saw him wearing make up and such. Let's get this stuff off." Derek found some cold cream and ran warm water over a washcloth. "It's ok, I'll be careful."

Cassie looked worried but allowed Derek to gently swipe at the worn paint on her cheeks and chin, and closed her eyes as he carefully swabbed over her lids and lashes. She bent over the sink and washed the residual off, and Derek patted her skin dry.

"Now, let's find some boy clothes for you to sleep in."

Cassie wrinkled her nose. "Oh, I hate those things. Spencer dresses like a refugee from a research facility," she grumbled and Derek led her back into the living room, to the dresser.

"I know, but he won't want me to see him dressed like this, now, will he?"

"No..." Derek dug around until he found a t-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and handed them to Cassie.

"Oh, those are awful--"

"I know, I know. But, please."

"Fine." Cassie snatched the clothes out of his hand and went back to the bathroom to change. Derek took off his belt and shoes and emptied his pockets, then checked the door and windows to make sure they were locked.

When Cassie returned, he had hopes that Spencer might have made his way back, but Cassie just pulled down the covers and flounced into the bed and turned on her side. "Goodnight, Detective. I mean, Derek."

Derek climbed in next to her and said, "Goodnight, Cassie." He turned out the light and sat up in bed, watching as her breathing slowed and the tension in the slender body ebbed away. When he was certain that she was asleep, he leaned over, put a hand softly on her shoulder and whispered, "Goodnight, Spencer. I'll see you in the morning." He then turned over and eventually fell asleep as well.

**A/N: Please review, please! Thank you for reading!!**


	8. A Fight

Derek managed to get nearly five hours of solid sleep before he was awakened by a series of unsettling noises coming from his bedmate. Most of the sounds were unintelligible moans and nonsense syllables, but he could make out "no" and "please" more than once.

The voice was Spencer's.

And, Derek quickly discovered, the sounds were accompanied by erratic, thrashing movements. Spencer was lying on his stomach, as far away from Derek as it was possible to be while still remaining on the bed, but he drew up first one leg, then the other, turned over, and threw out one arm, almost slapping Derek in the nose. He gently returned the arm to Spencer's side, which resulted in another flailing turn, bringing him closer to Derek.

"Hey--hey kid. It's ok, it's ok." Derek sleepily rubbed a hand over Spencer's back and the boy flipped over and squirmed against him. Derek put his arms around him and let him snuggle into the space between his side and the bed, then shifted him onto his chest so he could breathe. He smoothed the tousled hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He hoped the closeness was ok, and, finding that Spencer seemed determined to burrow further into him, he smiled and decided that it was fine. The kid was so out of it, he'd never remember anyway.

Derek slipped back into unconsciousness for another hour or so, then was violently awakened by Spencer sitting upright and crying out, "Stop it! Stop, don't--" His eyes were open and his face was contorted in pain and fear. He was shaking.

Derek sat up and pulled him against him, holding him tightly until the tremors abated and Spencer slumped against him. "Derek," he choked out. One hand worked feverishly, as if trying to untie an invisible knot.

"You ok?" Derek whispered as he ran his hand over the bony back. "Are you with me, Spencer?"

"Yeah." Spencer swallowed hard and clung to Derek. "I-I had a nightmare."

"I gathered." The dim morning light was seeping in, replacing the black of the room with gray, and Spencer looked up to see Derek's comforting smile.

"I couldn't wake up--" He glanced around and Derek could feel him checking the condition of his clothing. "Did you and Cassie--"

"No, kid. Nothing happened between us. We just slept."

"Oh. Ok." He settled back against Derek's broad chest and his breathing began to slow down. "I was so scared... Then, I woke up, and you were here."

"Yeah, I came by last night because I hadn't heard from you. And, I found that, uh, Cassie--got hurt."

"Yeah... God. I couldn't wake up."

"It's ok. I'm here." Spencer nodded and Derek pulled the covers up around their shoulders. They were quiet for a long moment, listening to the night sounds inside and outside the room. Derek could feel the trapped energy in the boy's body and he spoke soothingly. "Everything's fine, now, Spencer. Go back to sleep."

"I can't. Maybe I should get up and put on some coffee?" He looked inquiringly at the man holding him so securely. He didn't want to get up; he was finally feeling warm and safe and right, in a way he hadn't felt since he was a small boy. But, he didn't want to disturb Derek any more than he already had. And, everything was so... surreal. He wasn't entirely sure he was really awake.

Derek was too comfortable, and holding Spencer felt too good for him to even consider letting him out of his grasp. He ran a hand through the long, lank hair and said gently, "Not yet, ok? Just relax. You've been through some serious shit, you need to rest. Anyway--I kind of like having you in my arms for a change."

Spencer didn't answer. He just settled back into the cocoon Derek had made for him and tried to settle down. But, he kept fidgeting as if he couldn't get comfortable, and Derek finally asked "What's wrong?"

"My wrist hurts," he admitted.

Derek reached beside him to turn on a lamp. "Here, let's take a look." They sat up and Derek began unwrapping the elastic bandage from around the thin wrist. "This needs changing anyway--now, can you move your hand?"

"Yeah."

"Ok, it doesn't look broken. Does this hurt?" Derek carefully manipulated the muscles in Spencer's wrist.

"No. Well, a little."

"I think it's ok. It'll be sore for a while. Let's wrap it up a little tighter." He replaced the bandage and secured it. "Better?"

Spencer nodded. Derek held the injured wrist in one hand and idly traced a line up and down the boy's arm with the other, making him shiver. It was something Derek's mom used to do, a loving gesture meant to be soothing, and Derek wanted to help ground the kid after the horror of his dream. But, instead, the touch caused a shot of desire to zip through Spencer's tired body, and the heat and strength of the man holding him made him feel as if he were falling, falling in the best possible way.

He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Derek's, ignoring the cut place on his lower lip. He shyly ran his tongue over and between the older man's lips and wriggled so that there was as much contact as possible between their bodies. He traced the defined muscles under Derek's shirt with his fingertips, like a blind man reading Braille. He kissed him again and opened his mouth, inviting him in.

Mindlessly, Derek hugged him closer and kissed him deeply. Their lips slid deliciously over one another, and Derek explored the warm wet interior of Spencer's mouth, tasting him, inhaling him. The boy moaned softly and placed kisses over Derek's jaw and down his neck, then slowly pulled away.

Spencer lay back and spread his legs apart. He tugged at Derek's arm with his good hand, trying to pull him on top of himself. Derek looked at the kid. The dark eyes were watching him intently, and his thin body was warm and fresh from sleep. Somehow, his t-shirt had become rucked up over his belly, and his pajama bottoms had slipped down just enough to reveal a hint of pubic hair. A soft bulge in the plaid fabric indicated a just-starting-to-swell erection. The sight took Derek's breath away, and he had to mentally slap himself to prevent him from falling upon the young man like a hungry animal.

_You're the responsible one. You're the one who has to be strong..._

Spencer raised his hips and hooked his fingers in the waistband of his pajamas, preparing to pull them down.

"Spencer, no--"

"It's ok, Derek, don't you want to? I can tell that you want to."

"No--I mean, of course I want to. But, I don't think you do. Not really."

"Yes, I do. It's ok, come on." He looked worriedly at Derek. "I'm sorry I made you wait this long. I just thought you were going to... But, I really feel ok with you now. I-I'll give you whatever you want." He gave Derek a weak but encouraging smile. When Derek didn't respond, he sat up on one elbow and reached for the front of Derek's pants.

Derek caught his hand and pressed the palm to his lips, then firmly placed it on Spencer's chest. He reluctantly pulled back and sat up against the headboard, using every bit of self control he possessed to turn away. "We'll get together someday, Spencer, when the time is right. But, not like this. Right now, you're hurt and scared and exhausted. I'd just be taking advantage of the situation, and I'm not going to do that."

Spencer adjusted his pants upward, then sat next to him and sucked in his lower lip before speaking. "But, you need sex, I know you do. You used to come to see Cassie all the time, and you haven't been here for weeks--you're going to get tired of waiting for me, I just know it."

"I think that kiss is going to hold me for a while." Derek grinned at him and Spencer slowly smiled back.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Look, I'm a long way from getting tired, kid. I just want you to get well. I want you to be able to make good decisions, and not do things out of fear, or obligation."

"I'm not! I really want to do it with you now--"

"I know, I know, you got a little turned on, which is nice. But, don't you get it? You're not ready, and I'm not going to be the kind of creep that feeds on that." Especially since you just flew in from Neverland, or wherever the hell you've been for three days, Derek thought grimly.

Spencer shook his head as he pulled his legs up to his chest and hugged his knees. He gave Derek a sideways glance.

"You're so--odd. I've never met anyone like you in my whole life."

Derek laughed as he put his arm around Spencer's shoulders. "Well--right back at you, kid."

Spencer smiled ruefully.

"I meant that in a nice way." Derek pulled him closer, Spencer slipped his arms around him, and they held each other until they dozed off again. They stayed asleep until the sun intruded and roused them into consciousness. They then got up and made themselves ready for the day.

******

Over coffee and cornflakes, Derek watched Spencer's face. He looked preoccupied, and Derek asked, "What's on your mind, kiddo?"

"I'm just trying to sort things out. I can usually remember everything, but it's all kind of hazy."

Derek nodded. "I think--I'm not a psychiatrist, but I think the trauma of being attacked made Cassie go into overdrive. Maybe that's what she had to do to protect you."

"I guess so. That's never happened before."

"Did you know Cassie has a gun?"

Spencer looked up with a frown. "A gun? No, I didn't. Oh, God..."

"Yeah. Well, I guess she knows what to do with it. So, you don't always know what goes on with her, and she doesn't always know what happens with you, is that right?"

"It didn't used to be that way. I used to be in control. Now... I don't know what's happening." The boy looked defeated and he absently ran his spoon around the bowl of milk and soggy cereal.

"She told me where you keep the bills."

"Oh?"

Derek got up and found the Bennington Sanitarium notice. "What's this?" he asked when he returned to the table.

Spencer looked up at him and shrugged. "I don't want to talk about it."

Derek felt a mild flash of irritation. Just when he thought he was making headway...

"Come on, Spencer. I think Cassie had me find that for a reason." Spencer stared out the window and Derek put a hand on his shoulder. "Who's Diana Reid?"

Spencer took a deep breath. "My mom." His voice was so low Derek had to strain to hear.

"Your mom?"

"Yeah."

"Cassie said she didn't know her, how can that be?"

"I don't know. Cassie didn't come along until after--she never met my mom."

Derek pursed his lips and stared at the piece of paper, as if willing it to give him the answers he needed.

"She's sick?"

Spencer didn't answer.

"Spencer, a sanitarium is a place for people with chronic illnesses. Can't you tell me what her condition is?"

"I guess 'sanitarium' sounds nicer than 'insane asylum'," Spencer finally responded.

"Oh." Derek shifted uncomfortably. "What's her--what's her diagnosis?"

Spencer studied the bandage on his wrist. "Schizophrenia."

"I see." Derek mulled over his recollections from college psych courses. "You know that's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed. I just--I just don't like thinking about it."

"Ok. But--Spence, is this what you meant when you said you had obligations? Is this the reason Cassie has to--"

"Yes. Yes, it is. I have to take care of my mom. I can't let her go back to a state-run facility. I can't." He looked angry.

"Ok, now I'm beginning to understand. She's ill, and--"

"She can't function on her own. She needs care. When I was a kid, my dad left because he couldn't handle it. I-I did the best I could until I was sixteen. Then, she--she started having such severe episodes, I was afraid she'd hurt herself. One day, the police came and took her away, and she was committed to an institution. It was horrible--dirty, depressing... it smelled bad. They didn't take care of her, Derek, they wouldn't even let her have her books. They just kept her locked up all the time." He bit his lip, trying to control his emotions.

"I found a place--Bennington--and I tried to find a way to pay for it. But, there wasn't any funding or anything. Then... well, some stuff happened. You know, what Cassie told you about. After that, I just--I decided to go away, just try to forget everything and start over. I hitchhiked to California. I met this guy and he got me started... "

"Selling your body."

"Yeah. He knew a lot of people and, well, pretty soon, I was able to pay for the sanitarium. But, he started keeping more and more of the money and--I knew I had to get away. So, I just disappeared. It was after the hurricane, I figured I could come here, get lost, and be on my own. And, that's what I did." He shrugged.

"Ok, kid. So, you have to cover your mom's treatment. But, you have to take care of yourself, too. What would happen to her if you got hurt so bad you couldn't work? Or, if you died?"

"I won't. Cassie won't let that happen."

"Yeah, right. You're nineteen and invincible. I remember feeling like that." He gave Spencer a hard look. "But, it doesn't work that way. Look at what just happened, you could have--"

"Stop. Just stop. There's nothing I can do to change things, so there's no point in thinking about it."

"Yes, there is. I can help you."

"How?"

"I can cover your mom's costs."

"I can't expect you to do that, you don't have the money--"

"I have two rent houses back in Chicago. I've been putting the money straight into savings. One day, I'm going to build a house for myself. But, that can wait a little longer. I'll take care of your mom's expenses, I'll find you a treatment program, and--"

"No, forget it."

"Why? You need to get some help, get off the drugs--"

Spencer's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Oh, you think it's that simple? That I just need a few NA meetings and I'll magically be all right?"

"I understand that there's more to it than that. You need to deal with what happened to you--"

"Oh, I see. Maybe you can find me a good victim's support group, or a rape recovery counselor, and all of a sudden Cassie will go away. Then I won't have to fuck strange men anymore. But, I have a question for you, Detective. When will I be good enough?"

"Good enough?"

"Yeah, how much therapy and treatment will it take to make me clean again? To make you forget how I used to earn a living?"

"Spencer, calm down."

"You think I'll wake up one morning and be someone you want to introduce to your family? That I'll complete a 'really good' program out of state and come back redeemed?"

"I--it's not like that, kid. I don't care about the things you've done, I just want to see move forward. And, no, I don't think those things will be enough to help you. I really think you need a psychiatrist," Derek added gently.

Spencer's entire body stiffened. "No! No doctors."

"Don't be ridiculous, a psychiatrist can figure out how to --"

"No!" Spencer's face was turning red and his eyes were flashing with anger.

"Why? What are you so scared of?"

"They'll lock me up! They'll lock me up, just like my mom!" Spencer rose to his feet. "I couldn't stand that, Derek, I couldn't stand to be locked up. No way, no way--" He strode away from the table, went to the door and yanked it open. "I appreciate your concern, but you need to leave. Quit wasting your time on me, and don't even think about wasting your money. I'll be ok, don't worry. Just go, get out."

"No. Sit back down, and let's talk about this--"

"No! It's not going to happen. Please, go."

Derek stood and went to him. "Spencer--look at me." The boy raised furious eyes to Derek's. "What do you want out of life? Where do you want to be five years from now? Where do you want to be next year? A month from now, a week from now? Here, living like this?" Derek gently brushed the bruise on Spencer's chin. "What do you want to do, Spencer?"

The boy stood on shaky legs, breathing hard. A million images ran through his mind, but in his agitation, he spat, "You know what I want? I want a fix. Right now. I want a needle in my vein, and I want you to go away and leave me alone. Just like I've always said."

"Spencer, please. I can help you--"

"I don't want anything from you." The boy's voice was raw. "No doctors, no money, nothing. Just leave."

Derek's eyes narrowed and he suppressed the desired to shake the kid until he came to his senses. "A fix. That is all you want, isn't it? That's all a junkie ever wants."

"Yeah."

"Ok. Have at it."

Derek strode out the door, and heard it slam behind him. He hurried down the stairs and headed to his car.

He'd done everything he knew how to do to gain the boy's trust, to show him a way out, but, clearly, he wasn't interested. Fine, he'd had enough.

He'd offered him everything and he wanted nothing. The kid was right--he shouldn't waste any more of his time on him. He had Cassie and he had Dilaudid, and that was apparently enough. It wasn't Derek's place to save him.

Derek got in his car and drove to work, without even one glance in his rearview mirror.

**Reviews are very much appreciated, my dears! ;)**


	9. At the Police Station

Derek sat at his office desk and tried to concentrate on the report he was supposed to be writing. But, he couldn't stop thinking about Spencer. It had been three days since the kid had thrown him out of his apartment; only, it felt more like Derek had walked out on him. It felt like he'd let him down.

He kept picturing it all in his mind, again and again. The way Spencer's eyes had looked--the fear behind the anger. Why hadn't he seen it at the time? He knew he shouldn't have left like that, shouldn't have let his pride and cynicism blind him to what was really going on. But, even now, he would reach for his phone, stare at it, then put it down without punching in the number.

He wanted Spencer to make the first move.

He wanted him to take some responsibility for himself. It would give Derek hope that the kid was ready to move forward, ready to consider the possibilities that Derek had laid out for him. Ready to let him into his life. But, he hadn't called once, and Derek was again beginning to worry about him.

Derek had cooked up a story about a report of gang violence on Spencer's street and made sure a cop car cruised by a couple of times a day, just in case the creep that beat up Cassie really did decide to come back. But, he knew he couldn't keep that going much longer.

He decided he would drive by that evening, just to make sure he was ok.

*****

A few minutes later, Officer Lamont Wyler stuck his head into Morgan's office. "Hey, Morgan--Palmer wants to see you, man." John Palmer was the police chief.

"Great. Am I in trouble?"

"Naw, man, I don't think so. But you better hurry up, he's being his usual old sweet self, you know."

Derek rose and headed to the chief's office.

"You wanted to see me?" Derek tried to keep a deferential tone in his voice, but it was difficult when talking to a man he didn't respect.

"Yes, please--come in."

"Is there a problem?"

"Problem? No, not at all. In fact, I wanted to congratulate you."

"For what?"

"For cracking that case on the south side the way you did. Very impressive, very good work. I wanted to let you know you'll be receiving a citation--and a bonus."

Derek nodded. "Well, that's nice to hear. But, the whole team deserves--"

"I know, I know, everyone's important, everyone did their part. But, you were the one who put it all together. Without you, we'd still be finding bodies."

Derek forced a smile and shook the proffered hand of his supervisor. He knew the chief got brownie points when his top men were recognized, and he also knew election time was drawing near. But, a bonus was a bonus.

"I appreciate it, Chief."

"Thanks again, Morgan. Great job."

"Yeah." He turned and headed back to his office. _Funny how things work_, he thought. Without Cassie, he probably wouldn't have put the clues together as quickly as he did, and they probably would have missed the opportunity to catch the perpetrators. And now, he either would never see her again, or-- assuming he would be able to work things out with the kid--he'd be actively trying to help Spencer make her go away forever.

He had just stepped back into his office when he heard voices being raised at the front desk. There was nothing unusual about that, and he started to close his door but Wyler appeared again, making a half-hearted attempt to hide a big grin.

"Morgan, you better come up front. You got a visitor." The man gave up on hiding his amusement and snickered out loud. Derek shot him an irritated look.

"What the hell, man? I don't have time for fun and games--"

"Oh, you got time for this, trust me. Come on!"

Derek followed him to the front and stopped short--Cassie was standing at the clerk's desk. She was wearing a tight cream colored skirt that hugged her hips and ass, and a matching, impeccably tailored jacket. She sported a white straw hat and black patent leather pumps, lending her the look of a glamorous forties film star. Her makeup was perfect, covering any trace of bruising. She was leaning against the counter with one hand on her out-thrust hip, the other clutching a small black purse to her chest.

"Now, Officer, I just don't know how to make myself any plainer. Detective Morgan handled my case one year ago, and Detective Morgan is the man I wish to speak to today. No one else."

Three other officers had abandoned their tasks and were eagerly hanging on every word of the discussion between Cassie and the desk clerk.

"I'm sorry, uh, _ma'am, _but Detective Morgan doesn't deal with burglary cases anymore. I can get someone else to speak to you--"

Just then, Cassie spotted Derek, turned to him and demanded, "Detective Morgan! Do you remember me?"

"Uh--yes. Yes, ma'am. What can I--how can I help you?"

"I would like to register a complaint."

"A complaint?"

"Yes, sir. If you will recall, a little over a year ago, I came here to report a break-in at my home. I believe I pointed out to you at the time that it was necessary for me to come all the way down here because, apparently, if I had waited for an actual police officer to come and visit the scene of the crime, any evidence would have been covered in a layer of dust so thick you could write your name in it. Not that I'm criticizing the fine, and may I say, very attractive," at this point, Cassie took a moment to beam at each of the uniformed men standing nearby, causing a series of whistles and hoots to be emitted, "members of the police force here. I know how busy you all are protecting us citizens, but honestly, what is a girl to do?"

"Yes, uh, ma'am, I remember when you came down here. I--"

"Well? Would you like to explain to me why I haven't heard a single word from you since?"

"Excuse me?"

"Has there been any progress in the case? I can only assume you've been busily following up on all that evidence nobody bothered to collect. Fingerprints, pictures, DNA samples, all that sort of thing--"

"Uh, ma'am, we don't--"

"Oh, right, no need for silly nonsense like that. How about checking with the local pawn shops? Did anybody do that?

"Uh--"

"There _was _a report written, was there not?"

"Yes ma'am, I did it myself--"

"Well, could you do me the courtesy of telling me whether you threw it into the trash before or after I left the building? I mean, if the thieves in this town are to remain untroubled by interference from law enforcement, I believe I would like to know that. I might as well go ahead and invite them to remove the remaining contents of my apartment right now--no point in having them exert themselves by breaking in again, is there?"

"Uh, miss, I think we'd better discuss this in my office. Come with me, please."

Derek guided Cassie past the cat-calls and whoops down the hall to his office, her high heels busily clicking on the linoleum as they went. He then ushered her into the room, shut the door and turned to her with a glare.

"What the fucking hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"I could ask you the same thing." Cassie took a seat and demurely smoothed the hair spilling out from under her hat.

_"What?"_

"Don't act innocent with me, Detective. I know you're playing some sort of ridiculous waiting game with poor Spencer, and I want you to know, it is beneath you."

"Oh, really? Well, I happen to be a little upset with Spencer right now--"

"I understand that, and I don't blame you--he did behave like a brat. But, now is not the time to inflict 'tough love' on him, surely you can see that."

"I think that's exactly what he needs." Derek flopped into the chair behind his desk and leaned back.

Cassie gave him a grim look. "He would have to have had a background of plain old 'love', first, for that to be effective. In my opinion, anyway."

Derek started to say something, then thought better of it. Cassie continued.

"Spencer's emotional development is little better than a child's, Detective. He can't handle joy, and he can't handle sorrow. You've brought him both. He needs you. He just doesn't know how to show it, or how to deal with having you in his life. It's not like he's accustomed to having someone care about him, you know."

"So, I guess I'm just a piece of shit for expecting--"

"No, but you're trying to apply a set of rules to someone who barely speaks the same language! I know it's frustrating... but, he wants you to come back. He really does."

"He seems to think you're all he needs. You and the drugs."

Cassie looked at the floor for a long moment before speaking again. "I will always be there for him. Always. I'll never leave him as long as he needs me. But--I'm tired. I wish... I wish he could get stronger. I wish he could get his life back on track. Then, maybe I could rest. Just... rest. You know?" She looked toward Derek and the sadness in her eyes made him want to take her in his arms and hold her, hold her the way he used to, and somehow make everything all right. He pushed the thought aside and rubbed his chin.

"You think that if I can help Spencer--"

"He'll learn to live without me. And, that would be better. For both of us."

"You'd be willing to leave?"

Cassie made a dismissive noise. "I-I don't know if that's even possible, to tell you the truth. But, I know Spencer needs to find his way without me. Before--"

"Before what?"

"Before he goes away himself."

Derek stared, trying to grasp her meaning. He shook his head and leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I screwed up, didn't I?"

She smiled. "Not irreparably. He very much wants you to come back. He just gets a little scared at the idea of being confined, you know? That man--that man that hurt him, he took so much. So much, Derek. It's hard for him to take a chance on someone. Please, show him he can count on you. Help him figure things out. Don't put up with his bullshit, but--don't abandon him, either." She looked hopefully at him. "He has a lot to give, believe it or not. You've shown him--us--a glimpse of what his life could be like. He just needs a little time to be able to... believe in it."

"I was going to visit him tonight. Do you think he'll be there?"

Cassie nodded. "Yes, I'm sure he will. Derek--you're the best thing that ever happened to him. Try not to forget that."

"I won't. I'm just trying to understand all this, Cassie. It's--kind of difficult."

She gave a rueful smile. "Well, you're the man to do it, if anyone is." She rose, and walked to the door. "Best of luck, Detective," she said, over her shoulder. Derek tried not to stare at her ass, failed, then called to her.

"Cassie--"

She turned. "Yes, Detective?"

"I'm sorry we couldn't find your things."

"Oh, that old stuff? A crummy microwave, a tinny TV and a few pieces of costume jewelry? I'd of thrown it all out eventually, anyway. I'm sure it was worth about as much effort as anyone bothered to put into it."

"Well, I'm sorry anyway. Oh, and, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"I'm getting a bonus for solving that case you helped me with. I'm going to give you half."

Cassie laughed delightedly. "Oh, now, Detective Morgan, you don't need to do that. I wouldn't want to get a reputation as a... professional. But, thanks anyway." She winked and strolled out of his office, and Derek could hear whistles and comments as she passed the front desk.

After a few minutes, Officer Wyler poked his head in again. "So--you get that pretty _lady's_ complaint all worked out to her satisfaction?" The smirk on his face threatened to give way to out-and-out guffaws.

Derek sighed. "Yeah, funny man, I promised to send you over there to collect DNA evidence."

"Ooh, the detective is hostile today!" Wyler walked off, snickering to himself. _It's funny, _he thought. _Dude in a skirt--what a world. And, not bad looking, either, got a nice ass on her... _

Officer Wyler stopped short, his laughter died, then he strode purposefully back to his desk. He was ready at last to sit down and do some nice, calming paperwork.

*****

**Reviews are beloved, as are you, gentle reader!**


	10. A Tough Time Together

**A/N: FYI, this is an angsty little chapter... **

*****

Derek was sent out on a case that took all afternoon and most of the evening, and he didn't make it to Spencer's until late that night. He hurried up the stairs, not sure who--or what--would be waiting for him. But, it was Spencer who opened the door.

"Hi, Derek." He was pale and wan and the shadows under his eyes were darker than ever, but his shy smile looked genuine.

"Hey, kid. Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course." Derek stepped inside and Spencer gestured to a chair. "Please, sit down." When they were both seated at the table, Spencer continued. "I'm sorry I was such a jerk the other day."

"It's ok. I'm sorry I walked out like that. I should have--"

"No, you were right to leave. I've been thinking a lot about what we talked about, and I've made a decision. I-I want to try."

"Try?"

"To get better. I keep thinking about what you asked me." His voice was soft, and the hum of the refrigerator and the chirping of a cricket were loud enough that Derek could barely hear him. He scooted his chair closer and got a whiff of alcohol.

"You been drinking, kid?"

Spencer shrugged and Derek picked up a juice glass with a small amount of clear liquid still in it and took a sniff. Vodka. He glanced around and saw a half-empty bottle on the kitchen counter. He shook his head, and asked, "Ok, remind me--what did I ask you?"

"You asked me what I wanted. You know, out of life. I've been asking myself that, over and over again." He looked at Derek and he noticed the boy's eyes were red. "And, now I think I know. I want... I want to go back to school. I want to do something good with my life--medical research, or teaching, or--or, something. Help people, somehow. And, I want to--I want to see my mom again. I haven't seen her in a long time. I write her letters, but it's not the same."

Derek figured he must have started drinking early in the afternoon, and braced himself for a crying jag. _Nothing like a drunk on a crying jag._

"And..." Spencer really did look as if he were going to cry and he stared at Derek for a moment, then looked away.

"What, Spencer? What else do you want?"

"I want... I want to be your boyfriend." He glanced worriedly at him and looked away again. "I want to be... I want you to be proud of me. I want you to--" At this, he broke down and a sob escaped. Derek rolled his eyes, but went to him and put his arms around him.

"It's ok, it's ok. You know what? We can do that, we can do all of that. Don't worry, Spencer, I'm not going to give up on you. I'm not." He held him until the sobs slowed, and he got a kitchen towel and handed it to him and Spencer wiped his eyes and blew his nose. Suddenly, he looked ill and muttered, "Excuse me," and ran to the bathroom. Derek could hear him retching and he shook his head in annoyance.

Spencer returned looking even paler and he slumped down on the bed and held his head in his hands. Derek went to sit next to him.

"Damn, kid, how much have you had to drink?"

"Not much. Just that little glass."

Derek stared, irritated. "Don't lie to me. You don't get throwing-up drunk on one single juice glass."

Spencer raised his eyes, and to Derek's amazement, he looked ashamed. "That's not what's wrong."

"Then, what?"

"I-I haven't had a dose in three days, Derek. I'm in detox. And--it's getting bad. I thought maybe the booze would take the edge off."

Derek's eyebrows shot up. "Detox? God, Spencer--this isn't the way to do that, that's what clinics are for--"

"No. They're expensive, and anyway, I can do it on my own. I did it once before. I'm _going_ to do it." The determination in his voice strengthened as he continued. "I-I thought I'd get clean and then I'd come to you and you'd see I was serious and that I didn't need a doctor. I was going to ask you if I could borrow some money to take care of my mom while I got a real job, and then, maybe I could go back to school part-time and--" He clutched his stomach and Derek could see beads of sweat on his forehead. He bolted back to the bathroom and Derek stood up, trying to think. When Spencer returned, he asked, "When's the last time you used?"

"Right after you left the other day. I was--I was so angry. Not with you. I just don't understand--I don't understand why things have to be so... I thought about taking everything I had and just--lying down, lying down to die.

"Then, I thought about my mom, and what you said--how there wouldn't be anyone to take care of her. When I, you know, came to, I realized that you were right--and, that I don't want to live like this anymore. I can't let Cassie get hurt again, either. That was my fault, all my fault.

"So, I dumped everything--the Dilaudid, the pills, all of it--and decided I wasn't going to leave the apartment until I was clean. It wasn't too bad until this afternoon. I started getting really sick. Now... I-I kind of wish I'd kept a dose or two."

"After you've come this far? No. Now, look, you don't have to do this alone. Let me find a place--"

Spencer shook his head. "I'm not leaving here. I can do this, Derek, I'm going to show you--I'll make you proud of me, I promise." He smiled past the pain that showed in his eyes and sat up straighter.

Derek's heart suddenly was filled with hope and respect, and then--almost as quickly--with dismay and apprehension. He slipped an arm around the boy's shoulders and spoke earnestly. "It's going to be hell, kid. I've seen this shit go down before--you're going to wish you were dead. This'd be a hell of a lot easier in a treatment center. But, if you're determined to stay here, then I'm going to stay with you. I'll be here every step of the way."

"You don't have to do that--"

"You're going to need help--I'm staying. You just have to remember that once you get past the next few days, it'll get better. And, once you get past a week, you'll be doing ok. And, then--then, we can figure out what to do, how to make things happen. We can do it, together. Right?"

Spencer gave a small nod and Derek went to get a cold cloth and some ibuprofen. He came back and brushed away the damp strands of hair clinging to Spencer's neck and replaced them with the cloth, then gave him the painkiller and some water. "You need to drink a lot of water, you need to stay hydrated."

Derek put on some music, lay down on the bed and took Spencer in his arms. Everything was still and quiet for a long time, then the boy's limbs began to shake, and he felt hot. Again and again, he would get up and race to the bathroom and come back looking drained.

He couldn't eat, and only drank water when Derek forced him. Sometimes, he'd prowl around the room as if he couldn't sit still, then he would curl up into a ball in the easy chair and moan. He would become racked with chills and protest when Derek tried to wrap a blanket around him, saying he couldn't stand to have anything touch him.

Then, he would burn up with fever, and allow Derek to lead him to the bathroom to splash his face with cool water. Once, in desperation, he turned the shower on himself, then screamed when the water hit him, as though a thousand knives were slicing through his skin. He collapsed, gasping on the shower floor, and begged Derek to turn it off.

That black night passed more slowly than any Derek could remember in his life, but he had to stay alert in case Spencer decided to give up and sneak out to score a fix. He wasn't going to let that happen, even if he had to sit on the kid and hold him down for hours.

When morning finally came, Derek got on the internet and read about non-narcotic sleep aids and natural cures for withdrawal. In spite of pleading protests, he made Spencer put on shoes and go with him to a nutrition center to buy some herbal remedies. Spencer looked like the walking dead, but when they returned, he obediently took the pills that Derek ordered him to.

After a while, he fell asleep, only to wake up after a few hours and go through it all again. Derek called in sick and stayed with him, watching him, forcing him to drink water, to take the herbs, then later, to swallow a little chicken broth, talking soothingly to him all the while.

In the afternoon, he persuaded the boy to go on a walk with him, wanting to get some sunshine on his face and to remind him what the "normal" daytime world looked like, and to plant some seeds for the future. He would point out things that he wanted Spencer to focus on and talk, talk, talk.

"Look, Spence, see the cat? Look at him, cute, huh? I bet we could get you a cat, would you like that?"

_"No."_

"Oh, sure you would. Or, maybe a dog? Look at that little guy barking behind that fence, he's funny, isn't he? Wouldn't you like to have a dog someday? I would. What kind of dog would you like, Spencer?"

And on and on and on, as if to a child.

Derek arranged to take off a few more days, claiming a family emergency, and he moved into Spencer's apartment, sleeping mostly in little bursts in the easy chair, or lying on the bed after holding Spencer through a spasm of violent shakes that rattled his frail body.

Then, one morning, Derek woke up and realized he'd slept through the entire night. Spencer was lying next to him, asleep, breathing easily. He scooted closer to him. The kid didn't smell good; in fact, the whole apartment had the sour smell of sweat and sickness hanging in the air, and Derek got up, turned on a fan and began opening windows.

Spencer woke up. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Derek turned and smiled hopefully.

"Well, good morning, sunshine. How you feeling?"

"Ok." Spencer looked around, reminding Derek of a just-hatched baby bird, and ran a hand through his greasy hair. "God, I need a shower."

"Yeah, I'll second that." He watched Spencer pad off to the bathroom and heard the shower start. Derek flicked on the TV and found a morning news program, then put on coffee and sat at the table, trying not to get his hopes up too much.

When Spencer returned, wrapped in a towel, he stood tentatively at the edge of the kitchen.

"Derek?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Can we go to breakfast? I'm really hungry."

Derek felt relief well up in his throat, and he grinned. It was over. Thank God, it was over.

"Yeah, kid. Get dressed and I'll treat you to the biggest breakfast you ever saw."

Spencer smiled, a real smile. "Pancakes?"

"Anything you want."

"Ok." He did as instructed, feeling weak and shaky, but better. Better than he'd felt in a long time.

As they prepared to go out the door, Spencer threw his arms around Derek and hugged him as hard as he could.

Derek enveloped him in a bear hug, closed his eyes and murmured in his ear, "Proud of you, Spencer. So damn proud."

Spencer pulled back, looked at him and smiled crookedly. "You haven't seen anything yet, Derek. You just wait and see, I won't let you down. I won't--oh, hell."

He impulsively planted a kiss on Derek's mouth, and the bigger man smiled against his lips before returning it, long and slow and sweet...

They headed out into the warm Louisiana morning, each one feeling like he'd found something he'd thought was lost forever. They went into a good old-fashioned greasy-spoon diner and ordered the biggest breakfast either one had ever seen and began making plans for the future.

Together.

*****

**The "review" button's all itchy, give it a poke... ;)**


	11. Getting Better

**A/N: I'm excited! Tonight's Criminal Minds is the one Matthew Gray Gubler directed!! Squee!!**

**********

Spencer moved in with Derek.

He didn't want to, not at first. As much as he had come to trust and care about Derek, he wasn't quite ready to make the leap of faith necessary to put such limits on his independence. And, no matter how bleak his future would surely be without Derek's help, the thought of adjusting to an unfamiliar world made his stomach hurt. It took Derek the better part of two waitress' shifts at the greasy spoon diner to convince him that it was a good idea.

"I don't know, Derek, I just don't think I'm ready for co-habitation yet," Spencer said worriedly.

"I'm not asking you to 'live with me' like a boyfriend--I just want to get you away from that apartment. I have a spare bedroom, we'll get it fixed up and you can stay in there as long as you want. No pressure, no expectations--I just want you out of that place, and where I can keep an eye on you until you're a little bit--you know, stronger."

Spencer was busy building a fort out of small coffee creamer containers and sugar packets. He finished the third tier, then said uncertainly, "I've got a lot of stuff..."

"Yeah, well, you told me your rent's paid until the end of the month. I'll take you over there and you can start going through it and decide if you want to get rid of anything. If you want to keep the furniture, I'll get a storage unit for you."

"I don't want you spending any more money on me--"

"It's ok. Whatever we need to do, we'll do. All I ask is, no drugs and... Cassie retires. Period. Understand?"

"Of course, I want that, too."

"I'll take care of your mom's expenses and you can decide what you want to do about school."

"I'm going to find a job."

"Ok, but I want you to get back to earning that degree you started. Aside from staying clean, that's your number one priority, right?"

Spencer turned to stare out the window at the busy street. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. "Are you sure you want somebody like me in your house? What if--"

"You _are _going to stay clean, Spencer. I know it."

"But--"

"I believe in you."

"Ok, but what will your neighbors think? What if somebody from work drops by unexpectedly--how am I supposed to introduce myself, as your crazy ex-drug-addict sort-of boyfriend?"

"Just say you're a friend of mine, checking out schools. It's true."

Spencer nodded skeptically, then added "What about Cassie?"

"What about her?"

"I-I don't know what's going to happen with her. What if she decides to make cookies and go around befriending everyone in your entire building?"

The thought made Derek clench his jaw and rub his eyes for a moment. "Well, maybe you'll have to be my friend who's working his way through college as a drag queen, but we'll deal with it. I _will_ be taking you to see a doctor, by the way." Derek watched Spencer's hands as they now fidgeted with a napkin. "Ok?"

"I don't--"

"Spencer. You're not a threat to yourself or others, no one's going to lock you up. But, you've got issues, kid. You need some help. Right?"

Spencer nodded reluctantly, then raised his eyes to Derek's. "It's just--a lot. A lot to take in all at one time. And--I can't believe you really want to take a chance like this."

Derek grinned. "Hey, I love a good bet. And this one? I think we're both going to win it. Come on, Spencer. Come and stay with me. You can figure things out, and if whatever's going on between us doesn't work, you can always get a place of your own later on. But, you can't keep living in that apartment. Not if you want to start over for real."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Spencer's mouth. "You're very persuasive. All right, I'll do it. But, I'm going to keep track of everything you spend on me and someday, I'll pay you back. I promise."

"You'll pay me back by staying clean and getting that degree. Now, where's your phone?"

"My phone?"

"Yeah, you got it with you?"

Spencer fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his cell. Derek held out his hand.

"Let me see it."

He handed it to Derek, who then powered it off and dropped it in his own pocket. Spencer frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't want any further contact between you and Cassie's clients or your former drug dealer. I'll get you a disposable later this afternoon, and we can transfer any necessary numbers then. But, I'm going to put this away, you won't be needing it."

"You're not at all a control freak, are you?"

"I'm just being practical. Fresh start, kiddo, fresh start. Let the past go, ok?"

"Yeah... You can throw it out, actually. The only reason I'd need it would be because of my mom, but I can call and give them the new number when I get it."

"And, my home number."

An amused look came over Spencer's face. "I guess so."

Relieved, Derek sat back in his chair and smiled at Spencer. "Hey--you ready to get out of here? That new waitress is giving us the stink eye."

"Yes. So, what's the plan?"

"I'll take you back to your place, you pack what you need, and then we'll go home and get you settled in. This afternoon, we'll run some errands and buy groceries."

"Oh--at the Stop-N-Save?" Spencer asked brightly.

"Uh, sure."

"Pretty romantic--'our' grocery store. Where we met, remember?" Spencer was grinning mischievously.

"Yeah--the produce section, not my idea of romance, but whatever." They stood and Derek left a substantial tip on the table, then stopped and looked at Spencer appraisingly. "It wasn't that long ago, was it? But, it kind of seems like forever."

Spencer nodded. "It's kind of hard to remember not having you around," he said shyly.

"Yeah, same here. It's--kind of nice."

He clapped a hand on Spencer's shoulder and they headed to the car.

*****

The first week at Derek's flew by for Spencer. At first, he felt like a troublesome child being farmed out to a strict relative for remedial training.

Citing too many years as a cop, Derek went through Spencer's things, looking for drugs or paraphernalia. He ignored Spencer's assurances that he didn't keep any of that stuff, none of it. He confiscated Spencer's key to his old apartment, and informed him that he would not hesitate to pop a urine screen on him at the slightest hint of sneaky behavior.

Derek kept a close eye on him, even after he went back to work--he called frequently and expected to be told if Spencer had even a thought of leaving the apartment. He made him get up and have coffee with him every morning and ordered him to go to bed at a somewhat reasonable hour every night.

But, Spencer really didn't mind. It felt good to have someone care about where he was and what he was doing. It felt--safe. And, even with Derek's erratic schedule, he thrived at having some structure to his days, and, after the initial strangeness wore off, he developed a little routine. After Derek left for work, he'd make the beds, clean up the kitchen and the bathroom, then get on Derek's computer and look at job sites, or compare curricula at different schools, or look for scholarships and grants he could apply for and play around with different degree plans.

At lunchtime, he'd open a can of soup or make a sandwich for himself, and watch some ridiculous thing on TV. Later, he'd settle on the couch and read, sometimes falling asleep and startling awake only when he heard Derek's key in the door. Other times, he would be taken with manic energy and clean obsessively or head down to the laundry room to wash all the sheets and towels in the house.

Each day, Spencer's mind got clearer and his body, stronger. The physical withdrawal phase of his recovery was over, but he was left with a gnawing psychological dependency, and he battled that every single day. He allowed Derek to take him to a neighborhood NA meeting, and started going daily. It helped.

Sex never came up. Derek had been targeted as Chief Palmer's golden boy and he was kept busy overseeing the less competent members of the team--there were many--and their overwhelming workloads. Most nights, he was too drained by the time he got home to even think about intimacy. And, anyway, he had already decided to let Spencer drive that train. Let the kid take his time, let him work things out in his own way. Derek was in no hurry.

He knew Spencer was focused on fighting his demons, and each night when Derek told him to go to bed, the kid would linger for a while, but eventually give in and pad off to his own room, no questions asked. It wasn't exactly the way either of them wanted it, but it was comfortable. Which was maybe better than either of them expected things to be.

Spencer would take a couple of herbal sleep aids, get under the covers and lie still, reflecting on the day. Sometimes, he'd think of Derek, of the way he'd looked that evening, handsome as hell, forcing himself to do a series of reps with free weights or sweating through a routine involving sit-ups and push-ups and stretches that made his muscles ripple. Then, Spencer would stick his hand into his pajama bottoms and stroke himself, imagining Derek's mouth on him, his cock inside him, liking the idea but not really compelled to seek out the experience. When he finished, he'd roll over and fall asleep, as content as he'd ever been without a dose in his veins.

They co-existed genially, enjoying each other's company for a little time in the morning and for a couple of hours in the evening, and, except for an occasional hug or hasty peck on the cheek, there was no whisper of the physical attraction simmering between them, or the quickening of heart rates and gasps of breath that struck each one at the oddest--and most inconvenient--of times.

But, there was plenty of affection between them, and plenty of lively discussion. And, Spencer could see the approval in Derek's eyes when he showed him what he'd been working on each day, even if it was nothing more than another thick book finished or a letter to his mother that he read aloud to him before sealing it in an envelope for Derek to drop in the mailbox on his way to work in the morning.

*****

One day, Spencer decided to surprise Derek by having dinner ready for him when he came home. He worked in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables, choosing spices, preparing a meal that could be reheated if Derek was late getting in, and at some point, he realized he was happy.

A smile snuck up on him and he thought that maybe tonight would be the night that he would kiss Derek, really kiss him, not just a little peck, not just a shy smooch of affection and gratitude, but a hard, sexy, want-your-tongue-in-my-mouth type of kiss, and see what would happen. See if Derek would perk up and invite him into his bed. And, if he would have the courage to accept.

Then he'd see if he would be able to offer himself to him, clean and sober, with nothing between him and the nightmares but Derek's warm body. He bit his lip and felt the old familiar urge tightening in his gut, but he thought of Derek and his promise to him, and he opened the refrigerator to look for an onion, and fought it off yet again.

*****

When Derek walked in the door, the smell of roast beef wafted to him and he stood poised in the doorway, alert, sniffing the air like an animal on the trail of a rare and elusive prey. Amused, Spencer watched him, then raised a hand in greeting.

"Hi, Derek."

"Is that food?"

"Uh--yeah."

"_Real_ food--like, not out of a box?"

"It's real."

"Roast beef?"

"Uh-huh."

"Vegetables? Potatoes, carrots--"

"Onion."

Derek was worshipfully silent for a moment, then:

_"Gravy?"_

"Of course."

"My God. Wait--do I see rolls with butter?"

"Uh-huh."

"I think I'm going to cry."

"Good, you're low on salt."

Derek strode over to Spencer and threw his arms around him, almost knocking him down, and squeezed him tightly. Spencer laughed and choked out, "Hey, let go! I can't breathe!" Derek released him and they grinned at each other before heading to the kitchen to get it all on the table. Derek sat down and regarded each component of his dinner with complete reverence.

"This is amazing. How'd you learn to cook like this?" he finally asked between bites.

"It's pretty easy. You just throw it all in a pan and stick it in the oven, it's not exactly rocket science."

"Whenever I try to cook, I usually end up in the emergency room."

"Cut yourself?"

"That or smoke inhalation."

"It's not that hard."

"Well, there's a trick to it that I just don't get. But, this is wonderful, thank you."

"No problem. Made me feel a little less like a bum to do something useful."

"Now, don't start that."

"Well, I'm not doing anything to help you, Derek."

"You're recovering. It's only been a couple of weeks, give yourself a break. By the way, I got you an appointment with a doctor on Thursday, at two o'clock."

Spencer looked irritated, but nodded. "Ok. Are you going to drop me off, or--"

"I'm going with you, I took the afternoon off."

"You did?"

"Yeah, kid. I know seeing a doctor makes you nervous. I'm not going to make you face it all by yourself. Anyway, I want to hear what he has to say with my own ears."

Hearing that made Spencer feel better. He smiled slightly as he began to clear the dishes from the table. He noticed that Derek had eaten every morsel from his plate, and Spencer's smile deepened. Maybe things really would work out between them.

Maybe Derek was right. Maybe they really did have a chance.

*****

**Oo, oo, please review! **


	12. The First Time, All Over Again

**A/N: Ok, fair warning, this chapter features s-e-x! And, Spencer dealing with past issues. Just so you know.**

*********

After dinner, Derek had a game to watch. He flicked on the TV and settled in his usual place at the end of the couch. Spencer headed over as well, but instead of taking his now-usual spot at the opposite end, he settled in next to Derek, so that their bodies were wedged against each other, and he rested his head on Derek's shoulder. Derek tucked him under his arm, and Spencer sighed and nestled into him.

He watched the action on the television but none of it registered. His senses were filled with the scent and the feel of the man holding him and he tentatively brushed his hand over his chest. Derek looked down at him, Spencer looked up, and suddenly they were kissing. Spencer shifted himself so that he was almost in Derek's lap and the kiss deepened, Spencer's eagerness matching Derek's hunger one-on-one.

When they parted, Derek searched Spencer's eyes. "Hey, you," he said softly.

"Hey."

"That was nice."

"Yeah." Spencer went for another kiss and he felt Derek's strong hands gripping him, pulling him closer, and he felt himself get hard. Then he heard Derek's voice in his ear, rich and thick with desire.

"Spencer?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Are you, uh... Does this mean that you want to--"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Derek took a deep breath and gave him a skeptical look. "You're not just saying yes to please me, are you?"

"No."

"Or, because you feel like you owe me something?"

"I do owe you something, but not that. I want to, Derek. I've been thinking about it... I want to."

"There's no rush, kid."

"I know, but I don't want to wait anymore... I-I just want to be like everybody else."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to, you know, be close to somebody. I want to sleep with you, I want to wake up with you. And, I want to, um, have sex. Like a normal person. I'm tired of being scared about it."

"Scared?"

"Yeah. I've never really been with anyone just because I wanted to... I've never really had a boyfriend before. I know that sounds pathetic, but--"

"No, I understand."

"When I was in school, I was always much younger than everyone else. Then, later... well, I just let men use me, and I'd have to get completely loaded to do it, then Cassie came along, and--"

"You don't have to explain, Spencer. You know I want to be with you, too. I just don't want to complicate things for you."

Spencer grinned ruefully. "I don't think you could make things any more complicated than they already are. Sex has always just been--awful for me. I'm ready for it to be fun. It's supposed to be fun, right?"

Derek grinned back. "Definitely."

"Ok. Well--let's try it, huh?"

"Only if you're sure. And, only if you trust me. You know I don't want to do anything to hurt you, or--"

"Derek--I trust you completely, I wouldn't be saying this if I didn't."

They looked into each other's eyes, then kissed again, wrapping themselves together as if trying to fend off the elements in a snowstorm. Derek forced himself not to paw at the kid, to not drag his pants down and ravish him right there on the couch, but the sweetness of his kisses and the shy investigations of his hands were driving him crazy. He was relieved when Spencer finally pulled away, stood up, and held out his hand.

"Come on," he said softly. "If you want to."

"If I want to..." Derek muttered. "Kid, you don't know what you're getting yourself into."

Spencer laughed. He had to agree, he didn't. But, he was determined not to be afraid, because he knew he was with the one person in the world that would take him on this journey with care and kindness, and he was ready to go. More than ready.

At last.

*****

Spencer led Derek into the master bedroom. Somehow, it was important to him that their first time together be in Derek's bed, not the one in the guest room. Spencer turned on the lamp on the nightstand and he stood in front of Derek, suddenly filled with stage fright. He didn't know what to do.

"Come here," Derek said gently. He could see the confusion in the boy's eyes, and he felt a twinge of uneasiness. He pulled Spencer into a hug and he clung to him, and they stood there for a long time. Then, Spencer pulled back and looked at him.

"Uh... I guess we should take off our clothes, huh?"

Derek smiled. "Yeah, that's usually a pretty good start." Spencer nodded seriously, and glanced down at himself. He began unbuttoning his shirt, but Derek stopped him. He took over the task, keeping eye contact with him, and then slowly pushed the shirt down, revealing the t-shirt underneath. He gave him a kiss and pulled the t-shirt up. Spencer wriggled out of it, laid the shirts on a chair, and Derek began unbuttoning his own. Spencer mimicked his move, and clumsily took over. Derek slipped it off, and was now bare-chested. Spencer stared at him for a moment then turned away and began opening his pants.

Derek slipped his arms around him from behind, and said "How you doing?"

"Ok." He glanced back at Derek, who smiled encouragingly. Spencer took off his pants, and added them to the growing pile on the chair. Derek took off his own as well, pulled back the covers on the bed, got in and held his arms out. Spencer slid in next to him and cuddled into his embrace.

Derek could sense the tension in the slender body, could feel his breath coming a little too quickly. "It's ok, kid. We don't have to do anything, we can stay like this all night, as far as I'm concerned."

"No. It's all right. I'm just a little nervous."

"I know, I can feel it. Look at me."

Spencer looked into Derek's eyes and saw the tenderness there. He smiled slightly.

"Kiss me," Derek instructed. Spencer did, and he felt Derek's hand slip down over his chest, to his waist, to his groin. He was hard, and Derek squeezed him through the fabric of his underwear. Spencer liked that. He thrust against the firm grip and Derek slid his hand past the elastic waistband and began stroking him. Spencer flinched at the touch of flesh on flesh, and had to force himself not to pull away, to relax. They were still kissing, and Derek felt the momentary resistance. He let him go and moved his mouth over Spencer's neck, gently nibbling at the soft warm skin, licking a trail down his chest to lap at a small nipple, using his hand to caress his back instead.

Spencer made a soft moan, torn between wanting this, wanting it so much, and a blinding fear that was steadily crawling up from his gut. He told himself, _God, stop being an idiot. It's not like you haven't done this before. (Yeah, but not straight, not sober...) Even so, what's the big deal? Sex is just a natural bodily function, it's like eating or sleeping. Your body needs this, it's normal, you're normal... _

But, no matter how he put the words together, he couldn't stop a rising tide of panic from welling up in his chest and pushing out all of the air. Images of himself from long ago--tied down, wrists raw from struggling, stripped naked, the taste of his own blood in his mouth; the terror he felt as his legs were forced apart, the pain and humiliation of being brutally penetrated for the first time--these kept flashing into his mind. Suddenly, he was back there, back in that cold, bare room, with the smell, the pain... It took every bit of self-control he possessed not to bolt out of the bed and run to his own bedroom, to shut the door and drop down onto the floor in a fetal position.

Then, he heard Cassie's soothing voice in his head. "It's ok, Spencey, Cassie's here. You know Derek's not going to hurt you, baby. Let him love you--he wants you so much, and you know you want him just as bad... Let that old stuff go, and relax, angel. Don't worry, it'll be all right, it'll be all right, I promise."

Relief flooded through him and he almost said her name aloud, but stifled the urge and did as she said, relaxing against his lover and breathing in his familiar, comforting scent. After a few moments, he wriggled against Derek, silently asking for another touch. Derek tugged at his underwear, and Spencer raised himself and allowed him to pull it down. Derek removed his own, then went back to touching Spencer. He felt the warmth of Derek's knowing hand caressing him, sliding between his legs, tickling at that dangerous place and the panic rose again. He pulled back with a gasp. "Please," he whispered.

"I'm sorry, baby." Derek quickly stopped and held him close. "Maybe we should just go to sleep."

"No, Derek, I want to do this. I'm just... I'm just scared."

"I'm not going to hurt you--"

"I know. It's not you, it's never been about you. I keep getting this feeling, like I'm going to suffocate. It's because of what happened, and it's really pissing me off--"

Derek sat up and pulled him against his chest. "Spencer, maybe we should wait until after you've seen the doctor. Maybe he'll give you some medication--"

"I don't want medication." He hugged Derek tightly. "Let's try again." He reached up for a kiss and Derek gave him a deep, long one. He then shifted him onto his back and scooted lower in the bed. He took Spencer's failing erection into his mouth and slid his tongue over and around it, drawing him in and out until he was again at full attention. He stopped, turned aside and opened the nightstand drawer to find lubrication, then slicked a finger and went back to using his mouth while he probed at Spencer's entrance. He gently slid his finger inside him and Spencer shuddered. He spread his legs a little farther apart and cupped Derek's head with his hand.

Derek stopped and asked, "Does that feel good, Spence?"

"Yes--it does," he gasped.

Derek continued, hoping he was on the way to bringing the kid to orgasm, but he realized after a while that there was no more progress to be made. He pulled back, shifted on top of him, and kissed him. He took Spencer's hand and put his own erection in his palm and had him wrap long fingers around it. Spencer closed his eyes and squeezed. He took a deep breath and slid the velvety flesh up and down the thick rod, noticing how Derek eagerly thrust into his hand. He felt a fresh rush of desire and whispered, "Fuck me, Derek."

Derek was past mustering up any more cautious reservations, and just moved into position between Spencer's legs. He reached for a condom, then applied a generous dollop of lubrication. He pushed Spencer's legs up and apart, and guided his cock to Spencer's entrance and gave a firm thrust.

The sudden breach made the boy shiver and tears of pain and fear came into his eyes. He almost cried out, but he heard Cassie speaking lovingly to him. "It's all right, sugar, Cassie's here, Cassie's right here. Open your eyes, honey, look at his face--it's Derek, see? It's just Derek.

"What happened before is not what's happening now, even if it does hurt a tiny bit. Don't worry, it's going to feel real good in a minute, I promise. Just relax, baby. Just relax, and look at his face, look at Derek. He's a good man, you know that. You can trust him. You know you can trust him. Breathe, sweetie. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here until he's finished and then you'll see--it's going to be ok. Everything's going to be ok."

Spencer nodded, his lips moving silently as he chanted certain phrases to himself--_just relax; it's Derek; Cassie's here, Cassie's here_--and he again forced himself to relax. He kept a steady gaze on Derek's face. His eyes were closed and he was frowning slightly in concentration. _So handsome. _

The burning sensation soon passed and he felt Derek's cock rhythmically brushing against his prostate, sending powerful jolts of pleasure through his groin, through his torso, down to his very toes and fingertips. Somehow, the bad thoughts went away, the panic faded, and he was finally able to concentrate on how good it felt, on how Derek's warm voice encouraged him, and how strong, but gentle, his grasp on his body really was. He focused on Cassie's words, remembering to breathe, remembering to keep looking at the man above him, and remembering that he was here, now, with Derek, this was Derek, Derek wouldn't hurt him...

Derek's thrusts were coming faster and deeper, and a shudder of intense pleasure ran through Spencer's core. _She's right_, he thought, _this is good, this is nothing to be afraid of_. But he liked knowing she was there, right inside his head like she used to be. He managed a smile when Derek opened his eyes to check on him, pausing to ask, "You doing ok, kid?"

"Uh-huh."

"I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No, it feels--nice."

"Ok. You tell me if you want me to stop or anything."

"I'll tell you. But, it's ok. Really." He smiled again and Derek bent lower to kiss him passionately.

"God, I love this, Spencer. I love being inside you."

"Yeah..."

Derek groaned as he went back to enjoying the tight velvety heat of his new lover. The absurdity of the thought--"new lover"--struck him. As if he'd never been inside the lithe body below him, as if he'd never held the skinny kid's frame in his arms as he fucked him. But, he _hadn't. _It had been Cassie, and she felt completely different. She had a different weight, a different energy, a different rhythm, and it puzzled and delighted him to discover it. Cassie was wonderful, but Spencer was wonderful _and real_, and a rush of happiness flowed into him alongside the pleasure as he approached orgasm.

For the first time, he thought he and Spencer might have a fighting chance at a future, and after he cried out in release, he hugged the boy closer to him and gasped, "You ok?" He pulled back to look in Spencer's eyes, and he nodded. "I'm good, Derek. That was really good. I-I liked it."

His voice was a bit weak and Derek was painfully aware that he hadn't managed to get him to come. But, he seemed to be at ease, and the earnest look on his face told him that the boy wasn't upset, or angry, or resentful, so he rolled off of him, stripped away the condom, and lay softly panting, enjoying his post-orgasmic satisfaction.

When he was again capable of movement, he pulled the covers up, gathered the boy onto his chest, then wrapped his arms securely around him. They lay there like that, not talking, but liking the way their bodies fit together, feeling warm and comfortable in Derek's big bed.

After a while, Derek felt the tension in Spencer's body ebbing away, and realized he was slipping into sleep. He brushed his forehead with a kiss, and felt that, all in all, their first time together had been fairly successful, and certainly not the disaster he'd been semi-prepared for. He hoped Spencer thought so, too.

Because he surely didn't want it to be their last time.

*****

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	13. Fresh Start

**A/N: My readers are the BEST._ Ever. _I send virtual cookies to all of you, yummy...**

**In this chapter, the plot thickens... but first, some fluff. **

*********

Derek woke up the next morning with Spencer wedged into his side. The boy was lying with his back to him, using Derek's upper arm as a pillow, and that arm was now completely numb. He looked at the raised stretch of quilt lying next to him and grinned to see that there were only two visible parts of Spencer--a tangled mass of long brown hair, and one pale, bare shoulder sticking out from under the covers.

Derek groaned as he tried to gently shift Spencer off of his arm without waking him or losing contact, but all he succeeded in doing was disturbing him enough that he flipped over and snuggled into Derek's chest, tucking one arm securely around him like a child with a teddy bear. Derek chuckled ruefully.

"Hey, kid--you're killing me, here. Let me pull out my arm--"

"Mph?" Spencer responded.

"My arm's asleep. Let me--sorry, I'm sorry, you don't have to wake up yet, I just--"

Derek managed to free his arm, planted a kiss on the top of Spencer's head, and Spencer reluctantly turned over to lie on his back. Derek regarded the pair of dark brown eyes staring sleepily at him, and he heard Spencer murmur, "Time is it?"

"Almost six. Go back to sleep."

"Mph." Spencer closed his eyes again and felt the bed shift as Derek rolled out from under the covers. He opened one eye and watched him blithely stride to the bathroom, naked. It amused him to see Derek move with such uncharacteristic cheerfulness. He admired the receding view--the strapping muscles, the firm ass--and thought back to what he had done with that man the night before and smiled slightly. He liked knowing that he had pleased Derek and he liked waking up next to him.

But, he was still feeling hung over from fighting the horrors left in his brain by the old memories. The battle had raged on in his dreams, wrecking any hope of a restful sleep, and now he was ready to shake it off and embrace solid reality. He hastily reached over the side of the bed and found his underwear and a t-shirt, and when Derek returned, he was standing by the bed, running a hand through his hair and staring out the window. He turned and nodded rather formally at Derek.

"Good morning, Derek."

"Morning, Spencer." Derek went to him, put his arms around him and gave him a warm kiss. Spencer half-heartedly kissed back then pulled away, shielding himself with his arms folded across his chest. He spoke a bit too quickly, with a cheeriness that was belied by his tired eyes.

"Did you sleep well?"

Derek felt a twinge of disappointment. He had hoped that making love together meant that Spencer was finally comfortable with being close to him, yet here he was, still putting up his usual defenses. It was ok, though. They were taking it slowly, baby steps, one step at a time, one day at a time...

"Yeah, great. Better than I've slept in a long time, actually." Derek pulled on his boxers, then put his hands firmly on Spencer's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Last night was fantastic." He kissed him again and Spencer smiled sheepishly. He dropped his gaze to the floor before responding.

"Yeah. It was, uh--nice."

"Nice?" Derek sighed. "It was more than just nice for me, pretty boy. It was--amazing. Incredible. You were--so sweet. The sweetest little--" Derek stopped himself, seeing that the kid was embarrassed by his attention. He finished with, "I thought last night was wonderful, I just wanted you to know that."

"Ok... You want me to make some coffee?" Spencer backed up and moved hopefully toward the door.

"Sure." Derek watched him retreat and shook his head. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had envisioned a nice, leisurely round of morning sex, followed by chatting in bed for a little while before being thrust into the day, but he could see that they were not there yet. And, that was ok. Spencer was doing the best that he could, and they were taking things slowly.

Baby steps, baby steps...

******

Derek spent the entire afternoon in the doctor's waiting room. He read through several magazines, including a couple of trashy celebrity rags and a "Better Homes and Gardens", which he found amazingly boring. He walked out into the hallway to make phone calls from time to time. He observed his fellow waiting-room denizens, trying to deduce their stories from their appearance and behavior. He chatted with the receptionist. He found a cup of coffee. He went to the bathroom.

But, even after all that, Spencer still did not emerge from the doctor's office.

He was beginning to wonder if they'd quietly called the men in white to take Spencer away after all, when a nurse opened the door and said, "Derek Morgan? The doctor would like to speak with you."

"Oh, God..." he thought, bracing himself. He followed the nurse to Dr. Jordan's office. The psychiatrist stood, offered Derek his hand in greeting, and indicated he should take a seat.

"Hello, Detective Morgan. I understand you're acting on young Spencer's behalf. The two of you are in a relationship, is that correct?"

"Uh, well--yeah. This is all confidential, right?"

"Of course. Spencer has authorized me to discuss his case with you, so please don't worry."

"Ok. So, what's wrong with him?"

"Well--I'd prefer to speak in terms of diagnostic issues--and it's a bit early to draw any conclusions. I can say, Spencer is a fascinating individual. Obviously, his I.Q. is in the genius range. However, I suspect a mild case of Asperger's syndrome."

Derek frowned, then asked, "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Mostly just that Spencer will always struggle with social situations. He'll have difficulty making friends, and with understanding some of the subtleties of casual conversation and the like. But that--that's..." The doctor shrugged dismissively and trailed off.

Derek nodded. "The least of his problems?"

"Yes, exactly."

"All right. Now, tell me about the other thing, Cassie, his second personality. Does that make him--crazy?"

The doctor chuckled ruefully. "Well--it's certainly not normal. But, there's no consensus in the psychiatric community regarding such a diagnosis. Nowadays, it's called a dissociative disorder and is usually considered to be part of what is known as post-traumatic stress disorder. And, I have no doubt that Spencer is suffering from that."

"Yeah." Derek was familiar with PTSD. "So--what do we do?"

"I'd like to see Spencer on a weekly basis so that we can determine an appropriate course of treatment. I believe he'll respond really well to counseling and therapy. There are also medications that have proven helpful to people with his symptoms. I'd like to put him on an antidepressant, and also on an anti-anxiety medication for a while."

"I don't think he wants drugs."

"We discussed it, and I believe I convinced him to give it a try. Spencer's a determined young man, but there's no reason for him to struggle when there are options that can make recovery a smoother process. I get the impression he's ready to move on with his life, and as long as we all work together, I think he'll be very successful."

"Are you saying Cassie will go away? For good?"

Dr. Jordan tented his fingers and pursed his lips. "That's impossible to say. The goal of treatment is to integrate the two personalities into one and to teach the patient to find more appropriate methods for coping with stressful situations. That can take a very long time, years in fact."

Derek leaned forward. "So, what can I do to help him?"

"From what Spencer's told me, you're doing all the right things. Providing structure, holding him to expectations, offering plenty of positive affirmation. And, I'll be very interested in your impressions as Spencer's therapy progresses.

"But, I must warn you--psychotherapy for PTSD can be very draining emotionally. Spencer's got a difficult road ahead of him, and it's not unusual for the patient to take out his anger and resentment on the people he's closest to. He'll need your understanding."

Derek nodded. "He can count on that. But, here's another thing--his mom has schizophrenia. He told me he's afraid he'll have it, too."

"Yes, we talked about that. I don't believe that that's what's going on now, and his being aware of the possibility will only help, should he develop symptoms in the future. I hope I was able to allay his fears."

"Me, too. But--you're saying you don't think he needs to be, uh, locked up or anything, right? He was really worried about that."

"Oh, good Lord, no. He's doing rather well, all things considered. As long as he stays off illegal drugs and remains committed to treatment, he should be fine, long-term."

"Ok. Well, thank you, Doctor. Can I take him home now?"

"Yes, absolutely." Dr. Jordan buzzed the nurse. "Maria, could you bring Mr. Reid in here?"

In a few moments, Spencer came in, looking pensive. His eyes were tired. He glanced from Derek to the doctor and back again.

"Can we go home?" he whispered to Derek.

"We sure can, kid."

The doctor made a point of catching Spencer's eye. "Spencer, you can make an appointment for your next session at the front desk. Here are your prescriptions. Follow the dosage instructions carefully, and let me know immediately if you have any adverse reactions. Don't hesitate to call me at any time with any other questions or concerns. It was very nice to meet you, and I'll see you next time."

Spencer nodded and looked at the floor. "Ok. Uh, thanks."

They stopped at the desk, then he and Derek left. Once outside, Derek asked, "So, how did it go?"

"Um... He's very good. I think he can help me."

"Well, great! See, I told you it wasn't going to be all that bad."

"I didn't say it was pleasant, I just said I think he can help me."

"I just meant, I knew it wasn't going to be the horrible ordeal you were making it out to be."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "Sure, you try having someone poke and prod at every little thing you say or do for a couple of hours sometime, and see how you like it."

"No, I'm just saying--"

"Derek, the kind of therapy I'm about to embark on is like being on an emotional roller coaster, with side trips to hell all along the way. You may come to regret your decision to bring me into your life before it's all over with."

Derek gave a small smile. "Yeah, the doc mentioned that."

Spencer stared at him humorlessly. "I'm serious. I don't think I can do this by myself. If you're not willing to go through it with me, I need to leave, now, while I can still function on my own."

"Spencer..." Derek motioned to him to follow him to a secluded area at the side of the building and he pulled him into his arms. "I'm here for you, kid. I'm ready for this. Don't doubt that for one second. Don't doubt--me."

They stood there for a long moment, then Spencer pulled away. "Ok. If you're sure. I just don't want to make you any more miserable than I already have."

Derek laughed. "You got any idea how miserable my life _used_ to be? This has been a walk on the beach compared to some of the shit I've gone through. Don't worry, Spence. We're a team now, aren't we?"

"I-I guess."

"We are. We'll get through this, and you're going to be ok. Now, let's get home, I'm beat."

A smile crept over Spencer's lips. Derek had a way of making anything seem possible. Feeling a bit more upbeat, Spencer followed Derek back to the car and the two went home.

*****

As willing as Derek was to give Spencer all the time he needed to work through the tangle of their personal relationship, he was equally as impatient to close the lid on Spencer's old life. He'd taken him back to his apartment a few times, helped him to pack up more books, more papers, more clothing, knickknacks and decorations. They'd gotten just about everything small enough to fit in Derek's car and were now prepared to start dealing with the kitchen and the furniture.

As they made their way up the stairs, Derek continued quizzing Spencer about each item.

"What about the dresser?"

"I hauled that in from a curbside and refinished it, but it's junk. Let's get rid of it."

"How about the table and chairs?"

"Thrift store purchase, they can go."

"What do you want to do with your desk?"

"I took that in, uh, trade... I don't want it. I don't want any of it. Can't we just call a charity to come pick it all up?"

"That's a good idea. If you're sure."

"Well, I'll take one more look around, but I--"

They both stood at the door, staring at the knob. The shards of wood hanging on the side of the frame indicated that the door had been kicked in. Just then, they heard a thin female voice at the foot of the stairs.

"Boys? Boys, are you looking for Cassie?" Derek saw a small elderly woman peering up at them and looked questioningly at Spencer. "That's Mrs. Albertson, she's my landlady. She lives in the big house," Spencer explained. He called down, "Mrs. Albertson, Cassie's moving out, remember?"

"I know, dear. I've been trying to find her--someone broke into the place."

"So I see--when did this happen?"

"I just noticed it this morning. The door was standing wide open. It's quite a mess in there, be careful."

"We'll take care of it, thanks."

Derek drew his gun, just in case, and pushed the door open with his shoulder. Inside, everything was turned upside down or destroyed. Curtains had been yanked from the rods, one of the kitchen chairs was in pieces, and the headboard of the bed had been torn away from the frame. Kitchen cabinets stood open with their contents strewn around the floor and counters.

"My God..." Spencer whispered.

"Don't touch anything--who could have done this?" Derek asked. He strode to the bathroom to glance in and make sure no one was hiding there.

"I-I don't know, how should I know?"

"Spencer--this wasn't just a burglary. Yeah, sometimes a crook'll make a mess if they don't find something worth stealing, but this--this is vicious. Personal. This was directed at you--or, rather, at Cassie."

Spencer was pale and he bit his lip worriedly. "That man..."

Derek nodded. "Yeah. The one that beat up Cassie and then threatened to come back. Well, apparently, he did. And, when he didn't find her, he tore up the place."

"Yeah..." Spencer walked all the way into the bathroom. "Derek! Come here, please--oh, God..."

Derek hastened to the room and immediately saw what Spencer was staring at. Across a large mirror on the inside wall, in thick red lipstick, were the words "DIE WHORE,"underlined again and again. Derek stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the scene. He spotted the lipstick tube discarded on the floor.

"Ok, Spencer. Now we've got a threat. I don't want you coming over here anymore. I'm going to get a team to process the scene." He pulled out his cell phone and made a call. When he got off the phone, he saw that Spencer was still staring at the grim message.

"It's ok, babe. Nothing's going to happen to you." Derek put his arms around Spencer and held him. He was trembling.

Derek pulled back and looked in his eyes. "Spencer--can you remember anything about that man?"

"No."

Derek sighed. He didn't know how far to push. He'd need to talk to Dr. Jordan about it, but he tried again.

"Think, kid--can you remember anything? What he looked like? A name?"

"No, Derek. It's all a blank. I remember Cassie getting ready to see a client, and that's all I remember until I woke up with you there."

"Ok, ok, that's all right. Come on, now, let's get out of here."

"Won't the officers want to talk to me?"

"No. I called anonymously on behalf of your landlady and said that the apartment had been abandoned. They'll just come and collect evidence." He turned to him and said gently, "But, you need to try and remember, if you can. Ok?"

Spencer nodded, but added, "I'll try. But--it's not there. I just don't--"

"Just do your best."

"All right."

They headed toward the front door, then Spencer stopped, turned and looked back.

"You ok?" asked Derek.

Spencer nodded. "I was just remembering when I first came here. I was so lost, so alone. This place seemed safe, somehow, because of Cassie. She made it safe for me. Now, I'm leaving here with you, and I feel like... like I'm abandoning her. Leaving her all alone in this place, and it's _not _safe. I feel like a bastard. Is that crazy?" He raised his eyes to Derek's and Derek could see the pain and confusion welling up within them.

Derek hesitated. After talking to the doctor, he felt even more ill-equipped to deal with Spencer's issues than before. But, he found his answer spilling out without further thought. "No. Listen, you're not abandoning her. You're helping her. Cassie doesn't have to do those things to protect you now, you're learning to protect yourself. It's _your_ turn to make _her_ feel safe, right?"

Spencer bit his lip thoughtfully. "Yeah--I guess that makes sense."

Derek put his arm around Spencer's shoulders and squeezed. "Come on, kid. Leave the bad stuff here, you don't need to worry about it anymore. Fresh start, remember? Let's go home."

Spencer took one more look at the room and sighed, then walked past Derek out onto the landing.

They headed to the car and left what was now a crime scene to the work of the investigators.

*****

**Please review if you feel so inclined! Reviews produce squees of happiness... **


	14. A Case Begins

**A/N: Oh, this is a bunch of plot development, mostly. Things are about to get grittier... Happy Daylight Saving Time, btw. Nothing like losing an hour of sleep for NO REASON...**

**Ha ha, love you all!**

*********

"We got another one, Chief." Officer Wyler stood in Chief Palmer's office doorway holding up a police report. The man looked up from his desk with an irritated grimace on his face.

"Damn it. Just like the others?"

Wyler nodded. "You want me to call Morgan?"

Palmer sat back in his chair and considered. "Yes, I guess it's come to that. But, don't tell him anything specific, just get him in my office ASAP."

"Yes, sir." Wyler turned, headed back to his desk and pulled up his list of personnel phone numbers. He punched in Derek's and waited. It was early morning on the man's day off, and he had a feeling the detective would not be answering his phone on the first ring. He grinned a little; judging by Morgan's recently acquired good humor, Wyler suspected that there was now someone special keeping Derek Morgan up late at night.

He wondered who she was, and what she looked like; he'd like to get a look at the woman who had managed to capture that dog Derek Morgan's undivided attention.

*****

Derek was having a dream. In it, Spencer was laughing, and his smile lit up the room. Derek could feel his lightness, as if all the pain and misery from his past had vanished and he was just a carefree young boy again. Suddenly, Spencer's voice turned warm and sultry, and his heavy-lidded eyes focused on Derek, and Derek alone. He held out his arms for him. "Come here, baby," he invited, a soft Southern lilt just barely discernable. "I want you so much." Then they were in a bed and Derek was lying next to him, and they were kissing. In the dream, Spencer was sure and confident, and his hands and mouth were doing the most wonderful things...

The brutal jangling of a telephone shocked Derek back to consciousness. He fumbled for the handset and gasped, "Morgan here."

"Hey, man."

"Hey."

"Listen, you need to get your ass down to the station, ASAP."

"Huh? Why, what's up?"

"Palmer'll clue you in. Suffice to say, it's a big mess."

"Aw, fuck. Ok. Tell him I'll be there in twenty."

"Later."

Derek hung up and looked at Spencer, who had turned over to see what was going on. He blinked sleepily and asked, "You have to go in? So early?"

"Yeah, kid, sorry. Stay in bed, I'm just going to get dressed and go. Some big deal Palmer wants me to handle." He leaned over and kissed Spencer tenderly, then got out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

Even in his barely-awake state, Derek smiled to see the bathroom counter neatly arranged with Spencer's things on one side, and his own on the other. That was a recent occurrence; after the first time he and Spencer made love, they had spent only intermittent nights together for the next couple of weeks.

When bedtime approached, Derek would say something like, "So--you know where to find me if you get lonely!" and Spencer would smile slightly and nod. Sometimes, Derek would sleep alone all night, without a peep from the boy; other times, Derek would be ready to turn out the lamp on his nightstand, only to turn over and see Spencer standing silently in his doorway, clad in a ratty old bathrobe with a pensive expression on his face.

Those times, Derek would smile and pat the bed next to him, and Spencer would pad into the room, drop the robe, and slip in next to him. Derek would gather him to him, and Spencer would wrap his arms around his neck, and after a while, Derek would find his way inside the boy, and he would rock deeply inside of him until he was sated. After the first few times, he finally managed to coax an orgasm out of Spencer; and, some nights after that, Spencer didn't bother going to his own room anymore.

One morning over coffee, Derek had said, "Listen, kid, if you want to shove some of the crap in my closet over to the side, and empty out a couple of drawers in my dresser, you can move your stuff into my room whenever you want. If you want." He'd been amazed to come home to find that Spencer had done so that very afternoon.

And now, here they were, sharing a bathroom and a bed and borrowing each other's t-shirts and mixing their laundry together. Derek smiled again when he stepped out of the shower, and was still smiling when he finished tying his shoes, leaned over and nuzzled the still-sleeping Spencer, breathing him in and whispering _Bye, babe. see you tonight_, and hearing, _Ok, Derek, I'll cook something for us..._

He smiled all the way up to Palmer's office, where his smile abruptly died.

****

"All right, Chief, what's so urgent?" Derek took a seat at the conference table where Palmer, two beat officers, and a junior detective were already seated. A manila folder and some handwritten police reports were neatly laid out in front of the chief.

"I hate to say this, but I think we may have a serial killer on our hands."

"Serial killer?" Derek frowned and glanced at each of the four individually. "I haven't heard anything about this, what the hell's going on?" The young female detective, Katherine Warren, spoke up.

"We have three bodies. All are young unidentified males, all three were found dumped at points near the river. All three were beaten, sexually assaulted, then strangled. And, before you ask, yes, there is DNA evidence, but no matches in the database."

Derek took the folder Palmer handed to him, and spread out a series of crime scene photos. In each, a white male was depicted. One had a torn shirt on; the others were completely nude. All showed similar marks from restraints on the wrists and ankles.

"Damn. When?"

"The first one was found three weeks ago--"

_"Three weeks? _And I'm just now hearing about it?" Derek was livid.

"Morgan. Let her talk." The chief stared firmly at Derek, who then pursed his lips and nodded.

"Ok. Go on."

"Time of death on that one was established as being at least a day earlier; clearly, the dump site was not where the homicide took place. Similar story for the second; he was found two weeks ago, about a mile downriver from the first. And, this one was found about 4:30 am today, near a homeless encampment."

Morgan stared disgustedly at Palmer. "Three bodies, three weeks, and you didn't see fit to let me in on it? What the fuck, Palmer?"

"We can discuss that issue later. Right now, we need to focus on catching the bastard who's doing this."

Morgan took a deep breath. "All right. Who's been looking into ID'ing the victims?" Warren raised her hand.

"They don't match any of the current reports of missing boys."

Morgan stared. "Three young white guys, and nobody's looking for a single one of them?"

Warren shook her head. "I've had Jack and Kyle here making the rounds, asking if anyone knew anything, and we've come up empty. No one recalls seeing or hearing anything in the areas where the bodies were discovered, and no one knows anything about any missing boys."

Derek took another look at the photos. The first nude boy had numerous tattoos on his chest, arms and back. At the base of his spine was a filigree-lettered word--_Passion. _In one of the close-up shots, Derek could detect smudges of color around the boy's eyes and on his mouth.

"Is that makeup?"

Palmer glanced at one of the sheets of paper. "Yes. Eye shadow and lipstick." He shrugged.

Warren nodded. "There's traces of makeup on all three of them. We think the killer liked putting it on his victims before assaulting them."

Derek examined the partially clothed boy next. What was left of the shirt was a shimmering yellow tank top. He saw needle marks on his arms.

"Tox tests?"

"All three were using some form of opiate drug, but only one had needle marks."

All three boys had deep, dark bruising on their necks. All three were tall and skinny, with lank brown hair.

"Any chance these kids were hustlers?"

"Hustlers?" Warren asked.

"Yeah, you know, male prostitutes."

"I don't know--what makes you think so?"

"Tough heterosexual boys don't get tramp-stamps, and even openly gay teen boys don't usually sport canary yellow sequined tank tops for every day wear. As to the makeup, I think they might have put it on themselves, for work. Were there any other items found on or near the bodies?"

"No."

"Ok. Warren, send these guys around to interview the clerks at all the little no-tell motels near the river. I want Wyler assigned to me. We're going to hit the hustler hot spots and see if anyone knows anything about these kids. Have somebody widen the net on the missing kid reports; look farther away, and farther back. These boys could have run away from home years ago, from anywhere."

"All right."

Warren and the two officers scattered with their assignments, and Palmer shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Derek fixed him with a grim look.

"Why the hell did you keep these homicides from me?"

"Because. I know you, Morgan. You're a by-the-book kind of guy. You'd have put the whole department on the first one, and it wouldn't have done any good. You're right, you know, about them being hustlers. I can tell just by looking at them."

Derek's eyes narrowed. "Oh, and therefore they're not worth our time? What kind of bullshit is that?"

"That's not what I meant. I just mean, kids like that--no one will know anything, their own families don't even miss them. Why divert an already thin force onto something that started out looking like a hate crime?"

"Hate crime? Damn it, Palmer, if you believed that, you would have made sure that the city went on alert because every gay man in town would be at risk." Palmer's face tightened and Derek got up and leaned across the table.

"But, you know as well as I do that sexual assault on a male isn't normally part of a hate crime. Those people just want to stamp the targets out, not sully their own God-blessed bodies with them. So, you knew that this was something else. But, you didn't tell me. Why?"

Palmer looked down at his hands, then back at Derek. "This city's been thrown for a loop, Morgan. We're fighting every day to get back the tourist trade. The area where these victims were found is right in a proposed revitalization project. Bad publicity like this could kill the financial backing that we've struggled so hard to get. I--I didn't want to get media attention until--"

"Until you had enough bodies stacked up to make it interesting?"

"No. Until we were sure it wasn't just a--a lover's quarrel gone wrong, or gang activity or something."

"You should have known that after the second one!"

The police chief's eyes grew stonier. "Yes, yes, you're right. My apologies. I didn't know you were so concerned about the little faggots."

Derek abruptly straightened and pointed accusingly at Palmer. "If this bastard kills another kid, it's blood on your hands, Palmer. Don't think for a minute that it isn't."

He turned and strode out of the office, looking for Wyler.

He was ready to hit the streets.

*****

Pleeeeze review, I'm sleep-deprived... ;)


	15. What Cassie Knows

**A/N: Hello there. Ok, you are probably going to get mad at Derek in this chapter. I'm sorry. Had to do it. But, it will get better, I promise... Ok, onward.**

*****

Derek and Officer Wyler walked the areas known for attracting both male prostitutes and the johns looking for them. There weren't many of either out in the late morning air, but they questioned everyone they came across. All they got in response were blank stares, solicitations, or hasty retreats. Finally, they were about to give up when Derek almost fell over a boy sleeping on the sidewalk.

"Hey. Hey, kid. Talk to me." Derek knelt next to him and shook him. He took the opportunity to check the boy's arms and found numerous needle marks. Wyler shook his head.

"He's stoned, man. You not going to get anything out of him."

"Just watch me. Hey, hey, come on now. Sit up. That's it, sit up. Look at me. Here, look at me, kid." Derek managed to get the kid to focus on him and he showed him his badge. The kid recoiled and tried pathetically to scramble away.

"I'm not going to hurt you, and I'm not going to hassle you. I just want some information. You ever see any of these kids?" He made the boy look at the head shots of the victims. The kid rubbed his eyes and took them in his hands. Suddenly, tears began to fall down his cheeks.

"That's Kevin," he said softly, pointing at the boy with the yellow shirt.

"Oh, yeah? Kevin what?"

"I don't know, just Kevin. He was my friend."

Derek nodded. "I'm sorry. Now, listen carefully. We need to catch the creep who did this, and you're the first person who's known a damn thing. I'm going to ask you some more questions and you've got to focus, really try to remember. Ok?"

"Ok."

"Now, what's your name?"

"Mark."

"Ok, Mark. How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

Derek gave Wyler a skeptical glance, but let it pass. "You a hustler?"

The kid shrugged.

"Ok. How about Kevin? Was he--"

Mark nodded.

"Did he dress up?"

"Huh?"

"You know, like a girl? Makeup and stuff?"

"Oh... yeah, that was his thing."

"Do you know who he did business with yesterday?"

Mark shook his head. "I didn't see him yesterday."

"What kind of creeps have you run into lately? Anybody try to rough you up--or tie you up? Did Kevin ever mention anybody like that?"

Mark shook his head again.

"What else do you know about Kevin? Where was he from, how old was he--"

"He was from some little town in Iowa. Near Des Moines. And, he was my age."

"Eighteen?" Derek gave him a dubious look.

"Fifteen."

"Shit."

Derek took out a business card. "Listen, kid. You call me if you think of anything else, or if you see or hear anything weird." The boy was fading again and Derek gently smacked him on his cheeks. "Stay with me. Listen, you got to be careful. Try to get off the streets after dark. It's dangerous. Understand? Stay with a buddy, and--" The kid had slipped back into unconsciousness and Derek reluctantly stood up. Wyler gave the kid a pitying look, and they went back to their car to head to another neighborhood.

*****

Derek returned home late. Spencer was sprawled on the couch, a stack of books on the floor next to him. He brightened when he saw Derek, and got up to go to him.

"Hi, Derek," he said as he went in for a hug. "I-I missed you."

"Me, too, kid." Derek crushed him in his embrace, thinking of the dead boys, as well as the numerous lost ones inhabiting the mean streets of New Orleans. Any one of them could have been Spencer a few years earlier. "You ok?" He looked into Spencer's eyes, and the boy nodded.

"Yeah! I have dinner ready, if you're hungry..."

"Starved." They sat down to their meal and Derek regarded Spencer appraisingly. He didn't want to do what he knew he had to do. He didn't want to think about it, and he didn't want Spencer thinking about it, either.

But, he had no choice.

Derek smiled at Spencer who was idly chasing green peas around on his plate. "Spencer--I need to talk to you," he said gently.

Spencer raised his eyes, and looked worried. "Something wrong?"

"Um, yeah. This isn't going to be pleasant."

"Oh, God. Are you mad at me? Wait--are you kicking me out? What'd I do, Derek?"

"No! No, no, no, it's nothing like that. I just need to talk to you about something. I need to talk to you about--Cassie."

Spencer sighed in relief and relaxed. "Oh, is that all. Sure, what about her?"

"I need to talk _to _her."

Spencer frowned. "But, I thought you and I were getting along really well. I mean, we've been--you know, having relations and such. What do you want with her?"

"Spencer! Stop thinking there's something wrong between us. This is about a--a situation. At work. Something I think Cassie might be able to help me with. I need to talk to her as soon as possible. How can I do that?"

"Wait, what's this all about?"

"I'd rather not go into it..."

"Oh, come on, I won't tell anybody."

"It's not that... Look, how can I get Cassie to talk to me?"

"Derek, I don't know! I've never tried to--to conjure her up."

"Well, what usually brings her around?"

Spencer stared at Derek as if he were simple. "Bad stuff. Extreme stress. Scary things. I-I don't know--things I couldn't handle."

Derek sat back in his chair and tapped the table for a moment. "If I told you that someone is going around murdering young male prostitutes and that I believe the man that attacked Cassie might have something to do with it, would that be enough to bring her around?"

Spencer frowned and shook his head uncertainly. "I don't know. Why do you think that?"

"The boys were beaten, tied up, and strangled. Sexually assaulted. Cassie told me the man who attacked her wanted to tie her up and that he lost his shit when she refused. I don't know, it sounds like a trigger event to me."

"Trigger event?"

"Yeah, maybe this guy was on the brink anyway, and when Cassie took his power away, it might have pushed him over the edge. Then, there was the threat left on the mirror... If he couldn't find Cassie, maybe he started lashing out at boys that reminded him of her. It's just a theory, but it's all I've got right now. I really want to find this guy and check him out."

"Sounds like a long-shot to me."

Derek started to argue, then paused. "Spencer, I know this is scary to think about, but you have to. I need to talk to Cassie. Tell me what to do, how to get through to her."

Spencer stood up abruptly and went to stand by the window. He stood there for a long while, then went back to the table.

"Derek, I don't know what to tell you. She's not there, she's not listening. I--I don't know what to do."

"Listen, kid, this is serious. Lives are at stake. Cassie's the only contact I have that might have useful information. If this is the guy, maybe I can get him off the street quickly, and he won't have a chance to kill any more kids. Young boys, just like you used to be. Desperate, frightened--you don't want them to go through something like what you did, or what Cassie faced, do you? Or worse?"

Spencer's eyes flashed with anger. "No, of course not. But there's nothing that I can do."

"Spencer!" Derek hated himself, but he raised his voice and leaned forward so that he was inches from Spencer's nose. "Goddamn it, these boys died a horrible, terrifying death! They were in pain, they were at the mercy of some psychopath--"

"Stop it."

"--think how alone they felt, think how frightened they were. What do you think their last thoughts were, huh? How many other boys will go through that, when you could have helped them? How many, Spencer?"

Spencer was trembling, and he was on the verge of tears, but he yelled back at Derek. "I can't help them! I can't help anyone, there's nothing I can do! Now, leave me alone, Derek, just leave me alone!"

"Look at this--" Derek slammed his brief case on the table, making all the dishes clatter. He tore it open and pulled out the file with the crime scene photos. He picked out the worst ones, and the ones with the close-ups of the boy's faces.

"Look, Spencer! Look at them--this kid went by the name of Kevin. He was fifteen, Spencer, fifteen, younger than you. His mother doesn't even know he's dead, we can't find her, he doesn't even have a last name--"

"No, stop it, I won't look--"

"Look at them! Look at their faces, look at how they died!"

_"No!"_

Spencer pushed away from the table and headed toward his old room. Derek ran after him, grabbed his arm and dragged him to the couch.

"Stop it, Derek, you're hurting me!"

"Sit down and look, goddamn it! Look at them--" He held Spencer's neck so that he was forced to bend over the pictures. "These two have no names. They were all brutally raped, they were _raped_--just like you. Think about it--you were their age, you were tied up, forced to do things you didn't want to--how many more, huh? How many more will die like this if Cassie won't talk to me?"

"I can't--"

Derek yanked Spencer's head back by his hair and stared intently into his eyes. His voice became a low growl. "I'll drag you down to the goddamn morgue and personally introduce you to all three of them, if that's what it takes. You can see the bruises for yourself. You can look at their eyes--you know what strangulation does to a person's eyes, Spencer?"

Spencer made an animal-like cry and wrenched himself out of Derek's grasp. He dodged the coffee table and ran down the hall to his room and slammed the door behind him. Derek ran after him and could hear him throw himself on the bed, sobbing. Derek's heart was pounding, his breath was coming fast, and he felt like crying, too. He slammed his fist against the wall.

He stood in front of Spencer's door and forced himself to speak quietly.

"Please, kid. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I just... I really have to talk to her, Spence. Cassie... Please, Cassie--please come see me. Please." Derek listened for a long moment, but couldn't hear any movement. He went back to the living room and waited. He got up and listened at the door every once in a while, but didn't hear anything but an occasional squeak of bedsprings.

The hours ticked past. At one point, he went to the room, opened the door and peered in; Spencer was lying on the bed, asleep. He went in as quietly as he could and pulled a blanket over him, then pressed a kiss on his head.

"I'm so sorry, baby boy. I'm so very sorry," he whispered. He lay down next to him and pulled him into his arms. Spencer moaned and nestled against him, but didn't wake up. The silence in the room was soothing, and soon Derek felt himself drifting away...

He slept until the morning sun hit him in the face.

*****

**_(tiny voice) Review? Please? :)_**


	16. About the Killer

**A/N: Boy, spring is in the air here in Texas! Hope everything is going well for my wonderful readers... Thank you so much for the reviews, you all are so great! Keep 'em coming, ok? Hope you enjoy the chapter.**

*********

Derek woke to an unfamiliar sound--the drone of a hairdryer blowing full force in the bathroom. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then looked around the sunny guest bedroom. He'd purposely chosen an apartment with two bedrooms when he came to New Orleans, envisioning his mom or sisters coming for Mardi Gras or a weekend getaway in the French Quarter, but he'd never had the time to get it fixed up properly. He'd ended up using it for storage until Spencer came along.

Now, it was filled with serviceable furniture and some boxes and plastic bags full of Spencer's stuff that he'd never bothered to deal with after moving in. There were knickknacks on the dresser, and some pieces of framed art on the wall. To Derek's surprise, it was a pleasant and comfortable room, and he made a mental note to bug his mom about coming for a visit. Then, it occurred to him that he would have quite a bit of explaining to do before he could ever allow her to step foot in his home, when the bathroom door opened.

"Well, well, Detective Morgan--I see you've decided to join the world of the living." Cassie's normally warm, honey-toned voice had a chilly quality to it. She was fresh out of the shower, running a brush through her hair, with a bath towel secured under her arms. Her jaw was set in a grim line, and she wore no makeup.

"Cassie--thank God." Derek got up and straightened his shirt and pants. "I need to--"

"You want to talk to me, yes, I know. Hell of a way to get my attention." Cassie's eyes flashed at him and he went to her, intending to put his hands on her shoulders and speak earnestly to her, but she dodged him and walked to the closet. "I managed to dig my hair dryer out of this rat's nest--now, where are my clothes? And, my makeup?" She opened the door and was faced with nothing but more boxes and bags on the floor. "Oh, for heaven's sake..." she huffed as she knelt down to search.

"Cassie, I don't blame you for being angry with me. I know what I did was terrible, but I just didn't know any other way to--"

Cassie gave a horrified wail.

"What's the matter?" Derek strode over to her side.

"My clothes! Oh, damn it, my beautiful clothes. My God, that Spencer doesn't have a brain in his head when it comes to taking care of a wardrobe, does he? This is just awful, I cannot believe his did this..." She stood up with a rumpled dress in one hand and a heavily creased blouse in the other, and she glared at Derek, her mouth twisted in disgust.

"Just look at this! Got a couple of accordions here. What was he thinking, these are dry-clean only! Good lord, what a mess..." She dived back into the bag and pulled out more clothes. Then, a triumphant "Ah _ha!" _She turned and held up a makeup bag like a hunter claiming the still-beating heart of his prey. She selected a few more items of clothing, then stood up again.

"Cassie, please, this is very serious, very important--"

"Well, I understand that, but I'm not going to talk to you standing here in a towel. Just let me get dressed--and, keep in mind that I have a few words to say to you, too, _Detective." _She shot him a look of reproach and flounced past him, headed back to the bathroom.

Derek grit his teeth in frustration, but he knew better than to try and wrangle Cassie when she was in a mood like this. He gave up and went to put on a pot of coffee. He had time to watch the poky machine spew out the steaming elixir, fill a cup, and sit down at the dining table before Cassie finally emerged.

She was wearing a crisply pressed white long-sleeved blouse, a black pleated skirt with a wide plastic belt and a pair of black leather flats. She had put on only a subtle touch of makeup, and her hair was pulled back on one side with a clip. She looked like a prim young kindergarten teacher. She ignored Derek and went to get a cup of coffee, then joined him at the table.

Derek couldn't help but smile. "Well--you look very nice. Very... demure."

Cassie looked at him blankly, then dissolved into a grin and laughed wryly. "Well, I _am_ retired now, you know. Figured I should dress a bit more--sedately." Still smiling, she stirred her coffee.

"And, looks like you managed to find something that wasn't wrinkled."

"Hardly. I rescued my iron, but apparently you slovenly men don't own an ironing board, so I had to make do with the top of the dresser. I swear, every single thing I own is wrecked, this is a fashion disaster--"

Derek was enjoying being with her again. Even in the subdued outfit, there was something viscerally sexy about the way she spoke, the way she moved, and Derek was having a hard time remembering that everything was different between them. He fought off the urge to pull her into his lap for a deep kiss and a cuddle, and he reminded himself of the urgency of the situation. He cleared his throat.

"Cassie, please. I'm sorry, but I have to ask you some questions."

She looked up at him and put down her coffee cup to point an accusatory finger at him. "Now, just a minute. I understand that there are some very serious matters at hand. But, I want you to know that I'm very put out with you, Detective, very put out, indeed. You had no call to treat poor Spencer like you did. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Derek sighed. "I know--you're right. It got completely out of hand. But, what should I have done? I had no way to contact you--"

Cassie crossed her legs and leaned back. "I don't know. A little patience might have helped."

"But, Cassie, there's no time. The killer's been murdering one boy a week for the last three weeks. We probably have a few days before he strikes again, but there's no assurance of that. He could escalate his killing at any time."

Cassie's expression morphed into one of concern. "Oh, dear. I guess that's so. I-I do understand. It's just that Spencer's so upset. You're the one person in this world that he thought would never hurt him, and you--"

"I know, I know! I feel terrible, and believe me, I'm going to make it up to him. I'll make things right between us again, I promise. But, there's no time right now--"

"What do you need from me, Detective?" Cassie leaned forward again and crossed her arms on the table. Her dark eyes looked intently into Derek's.

He took a deep breath. "I've got to find the man that attacked you back at your apartment. I need to know who he is, and how to find him. What can you tell me about him?"

Cassie frowned. "Where's my phone?"

"What?"

"My cell phone. I had a couple of messages from him on there and I think I kept them. That should give us a number to start with."

"Right!" Derek went to where he had stashed the cell, and fished out a charger for it. He set it up at the table and handed it to Cassie.

She scrolled through her caller list, and punched the speaker button.

"Lady Cassandra. My name's Ron. You were recommended to me by a friend. Please call me, 469-555-0150. Thanks."

Cassie looked at Derek, who grabbed a pencil and paper and jotted the number down. "Got it?"

Derek nodded. "When did that call come in?"

"It was a few days before the attack. I didn't call him at that time."

"Why not?"

Cassie sighed. "Well, now, I don't just take in any old stray dog that comes along, you know. I have contacts at the best hotels--concierges, desk managers--they give my number to likely clients, and they sort of screen them for me. I only take referrals through them, not client to client. So, I didn't call this guy back, this 'Ron', because I didn't know anything about him. But, then--"

Cassie moved on to the next message.

"Cassandra, this is Ron again. I've been hoping you would call. I very much want to see you, please call me. 469-555-0150."

"After that, I did call him. I asked him who had given him my number, and he told me. I knew the man, and... Well, I'd lost one of my best clients." Cassie gave Derek a pointed look. "So, I thought, what the hell. I needed the money, you know? So, I made a date with him." She shrugged.

"Ok. So, what happened when he came to your place?"

"He was--odd. Very intense. He seemed nice, at first. We chatted a bit. But, he just kept staring at me. I thought about asking him to leave, but he hadn't really done anything wrong. I figured I should just go along and get him out of there as quickly as possible, rather than risk antagonizing him. So, after a bit--we started to, you know... go to bed, but he brought out these ropes. He tried to pin me to the bed and tie my hands--well, no way. No way was I going for that. So, I managed to get away from him and I told him to get out.

"I reached for my phone, and he grabbed my wrist and twisted it. Then, he started hitting me. He was damned strong. He knocked me down and kept coming, but I was able to get to my gun--I kept it under the mattress, you know--and I threatened him with it. I told him to get the hell out. He kind of freaked at that, and backed off. He ran to the door and said, 'I'll be back, bitch', then he left. And, that was it." She shivered, and raised worried eyes to Derek's. "You really think he could be the one killing these kids?"

"It's possible. What did he look like?"

"Nothing special. White guy, brown hair, balding, probably in his mid-thirties. Glasses. Shorter than me, but heavier. Sort of--just average, you know? Kind of geeky. Most of my clients are doctors, or dentists, or lawyers--this guy seemed more--working-class. But, he had money, cash. I made him show it to me. Not that I got my hands on it, the way things ended up."

"What was he wearing?"

"Oh, gosh, Derek, I don't remember exactly--slacks, I think. Plaid shirt, long-sleeves. He had a, let's see, a jacket, brown. Nothing very interesting."

"How did he talk? Did he have an accent?"

"Well, he wasn't from around here. I'd say he was from up north, but nothing real distinctive. Maybe upstate New York or something."

Derek smiled. "That's pretty specific. What about a car?"

"He had a car... You know, now that I think about it, it was a rental. It had one of those stickers on it."

"Do you remember the company?"

"Umm, let me think. Oh, yes--it was a local outfit--'Big Easy Auto Rental'--it's a cheapo operation, they just work the airport crowd."

Derek was making notes and he nodded. "Ok." He looked up and asked carefully, "Cassie--was there anything that he might have gotten bodily fluids on? Sheets, clothing of yours--"

Cassie pursed her lips. "No, Derek. I didn't have sex with him, and unfortunately, the only blood that was shed that night was mine. Now I wish I'd of put a bullet right through his damn head."

Derek shook his head. "Don't talk like that... Let me think. You said he got your number from another client of yours. Can you give me his name and number?"

"I think so." She ran through her phone's contact list and read out a local number along with the man's name--Dr. Todd Jarvis. Derek jotted it down.

"Ok. This is good. We've got at least a couple of ways to try and track this guy down. Is there anything else you can think of that might help?"

Cassie licked her lips and frowned thoughtfully. "Well... I don't know if this'll help you find him, but when we were, uh, making out--before he tried to tie me up, you know--he called me 'Joey'."

"'Joey?'"

"Uh-huh, isn't that strange? I didn't correct him or anything, I mean, clients can call me anything the hell that they want, but it was weird--it was like he was in a trance or something. Like he was somewhere else in his mind."

Derek nodded and added to his notes, then looked up. "Cassie, you're a champ. Now, I've got to go in and get to work on all of this. Are you going to be ok here, alone? What about Spencer?"

"I'll be fine. I can't speak for Spencer." She gave a rueful smile and Derek pressed a kiss on her cheek.

"Stay here. Do not leave, ok? There's food in the fridge. If you need anything, call me. I'll check in with you when I can."

"All right, sweetie, whatever you say."

The endearment warmed Derek's heart and he smiled, relieved. "Hey--are things ok, now? Between you and me, I mean?"

"Oh, of course they are, darling, everything's fine, just fine. Here... I'll show you." She stood up and, before Derek realized what was happening, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself tightly against him. The familiar--and much loved--angles and planes of Spencer's lanky body somehow seemed to have melted into delicious feminine curves. She felt warm, almost fevered--Cassie's body temperature always seemed to run a few degrees higher than Spencer's, and once again Derek was baffled. It was like holding a completely different person in his arms.

Cassie nuzzled her face into his neck for a moment, then lifted her head and gave Derek a warm, wet kiss, using her tongue in such a way that a rush of lust instantly heated Derek's crotch. She then pulled back to look at him, a lazy smile on her lips. "Mmm--I've missed you, Derek. I'm so happy for Spencer, but... you sure are a good kisser. If he decides to dump you, can _I_ have you?" Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

Derek had a vision of picking her up and carrying her into the bedroom. He could just imagine himself throwing her onto the bed, pushing that sensible skirt up around her waist, and settling in between her legs for a good, long, deep fuck that would leave them both shaky and panting in exhaustion, but he forced himself to take a deep breath, and cup her face in his hands. He looked into the dancing brown eyes with a deadly serious expression, and his voice was thick and raspy when he spoke.

"Now, stop that. You behave yourself. I am _not_ going to let Spencer dump me. Understand?"

Cassie smirked at him. "Oh, well, fine. Although, it's good to have a back-up plan, isn't it?"

Derek pursed his lips and started to retort, but Cassie giggled and stepped back, holding up her hands defensively. "All right, all right, don't blow a gasket, angel-pie! I was just teasing. Off to work with you, you've got a busy day ahead of yourself. Good luck--and, I sure hope you find the bastard." Cassie smoothed her hair and took a seat on the couch. She put her arms up on the backrest, crossed her legs and watched, pleased, as Derek tried to calm himself by getting ready to leave, in spite of the huge erection pressing at the front of his trousers.

By the time he strapped on his gun and pulled on his jacket, Derek had managed to get himself back in check. He went to Cassie, sat down on the coffee table in front of her and regarded her appraisingly. "Are you going to be here when I get home, or is Spencer going to come back?"

"Honestly, honey, I don't know. But, I'm going to try to stick around until you get word on the case. You might want to talk to me some more, and God knows Spencer doesn't need for you to inflict your gentle style of communication on him again."

"Cassie, I'm going to make it up to him, I swear. Damn it, this is killing me, I wish I could just... But, yeah, if you can be here for a while, that's probably a good thing. For now."

Cassie smiled. "You love him, don't you?" she asked softly.

_"What?"_

"Never mind, baby, that's between the two of you. But... it doesn't take a genius to figure it out."

Derek blinked, then stood up. "I've got to go. See you tonight." He walked to the door without another word. As he was leaving, he heard Cassie merrily add, "Don't you worry, Detective, I won't let the cat out of the bag to dear little Spencer! You just tell him whenever you're good and ready!"

He could hear her laughing even after he locked the door behind him.


	17. Ron

**A/N: Happy Easter! This chapter features the bad guy and his psychopathic thoughts--FYI, just in case that might be disturbing for anyone. **

******

In his room at an extended-stay hotel in downtown New Orleans, Ronald Wayne Thomas sat by the window and stared down onto the street below. He liked doing that, he liked to watch the people bustling around, to see how they were dressed, how they moved, the looks on their faces. It was fun, watching. without having to actually come into contact with them. These days, Ron didn't really care to be around people if he could help it. People were so... unpredictable.

He turned back to the portable communications center he'd set up on the battered desk, sniffing a little at the stale smell of cigarettes that hung in the air. The room itself was stark and a little dirty, but it was as much home to him as any place had been since Joey's spirit had left his body.

Ron had been there when it happened, when the light went out of his beautiful eyes. After that happened, nothing much seemed to matter anymore. Certainly not where he laid his head when he settled down for the night. But, he was lucky, really. His job as a computer systems analyst allowed him to work just about anywhere, and New Orleans was an interesting city. Now, more than ever...

He closed down the program he used for doing his work, and pulled up another one. This one was specially designed by him for hacking into cell phone and wireless connections. He could have used it for a number of purposes--identity theft and money misappropriation came to mind--but he had originally developed it to aid him in simple blackmail schemes.

He did work for a lot of professional people--doctors, lawyers, corporate types. He'd found that, if a person paid attention, he'd find such people often had a lot to hide. Take Dr. Jarvis, for instance. He'd hired Ron to set up a system that tied together all the different insurance networks with the bank and credit card companies that he used for accepting his patients' payments. It was all above board, clean as a whistle, and Ron hadn't thought much about Dr. J being a sneak.

But then, he'd heard him on his cell phone. Ron had spent several hours around the doctor's office, working on cabling and installing wall-jacks, and he'd half-listened as the doc took calls from his wife and kids, or from someone with an upset stomach, or a cough that wouldn't go away. It was easy to tell that he was a nice man, a family man, good-natured and jovial. But, one day Ron noticed he was speaking in a completely different manner from the one he used with his family or his patients, and he'd made it a point to do a little readjusting on a tricky piece of wiring right outside the doctor's office.

And what he'd heard was interesting--the man was _flirting, _and he'd sounded entirely too happy. It made Ron curious.

One afternoon, Ron followed him, and what he discovered came as a genuine surprise. Not only was the good doctor being unfaithful to his wife, but he was doing so _with a guy. _

Well, a guy that dressed like a girl. Just like Joey used to do. His Joey...

And, that was what got to him. This person actually _looked _a lot like Joey. Tall, thin, long brown hair, pretty eyes... It wasn't him, of course, poor Joey was dead, right? Dead as a doornail. But, he couldn't get the image out of his mind, couldn't let it go. He'd watched the doctor more carefully after that, all thoughts of blackmail forgotten.

Eventually, he'd hacked into the doctor's cell phone and recorded one of their conversations. And later, playing it back at his hotel, he'd almost started to cry. That voice--that voice was Joey's!

Ron had listened, enraptured, until they broke the connection. It had become so obvious to him--Joey's spirit had found another body, just as the dreams told him he would. It was too bad that the body belonged to a goddamned filthy whore, but that was ok, that was ok, he knew he could make it better. Make it so that Joey didn't have to do sick, disgusting things with other men ever again, just like he'd tried--and failed--to do before. This time, he had decided, he'd be more careful.

This time, he wouldn't let the light go out.

*****

After Derek left for work, Cassie flipped on the television for a few moments, then irritably turned it off. Nothing but junk. She ran her hand through her hair, stood, and went to gaze out a window. She felt lost and unsettled, not being in her own home, and she didn't know what to do with herself. She thought about going for a walk, but Derek had told her to stay put, and she knew he was right.

She began to wander around Derek's apartment, observing the details of his life with great interest. She studied the papers and mementoes he'd left out on his desk, then read over the titles of the few books that she knew were his and not Spencer's.

Derek didn't care much about material possessions, that much was clear. There were only the most basic pieces of furniture, and no curtains on the windows, just the blinds that came with the place. His only indulgence seemed to be an expensive television and stereo system--better for watching sports, she supposed.

Cassie found a dusty framed photo of Derek in a college football uniform, and she held it up, one hand on her chin, trying to read the expression on his face. Happy. A little cocky. She bet that boy had a swagger that wouldn't quit, back in the day. She went to the kitchen for a cloth to wipe away the dust and cleaned the frame, smiling in admiration at the image of the handsome young quarterback.

He was such a strong man, so very strong, in so many ways. That man had an iron will, yes he did. He wasn't so great when a situation called for a bit of diplomacy, of course. He was just a little too focused on the goal, a little too quick to pull the trigger, maybe, but that was what made him so effective. She hoped Spencer would understand. Spencer...

Cassie sighed. That poor baby. He'd been through so much.

She put down the photo and wrapped her arms around herself, thinking about what Derek had told her concerning the crimes he was investigating. Horrible. Just horrible what happened to those boys. To think she'd almost...

Cassie shook her head and went to the back bedroom and again surveyed the mess from that morning. She needed to get herself busy, to get distracted. She unbuttoned the cuffs of her blouse and rolled up the sleeves, pursed her lips in determination, and began sorting through the bags and boxes into which Spencer had so carelessly thrown all her worldly possessions, and slowly began to bring order from chaos.

*****

Ron flipped a switch on his scanner and squinted as he ran through the list of active phone numbers that appeared on his computer screen. He was trying to capture the whereabouts of a shifty lawyer who had dropped off the map rather than paying him the money he owed for doing good work, when his eye caught a number that was branded into his brain. _My God_, he thought, _she's back!_

"Lady Cassandra", as Joey apparently was calling himself these days, was back on the grid! His heart leapt, and he scrambled to find a pen and paper to write down the coordinates. Oh, thank goodness. Thank God. He'd thought Joey was lost forever; he'd tried so hard to find him, had made so many mistakes, but there he was, right on his computer screen, as good as if he were standing before him in the flesh.

Ron smiled. That last time had gone so wrong. Obviously, Joey didn't remember him yet. And then, to have that little whore pull a gun on him when he was just trying to help, just trying to make him understand... And then, she'd disappeared. Ron had gone away, tried to cool off and concentrate on his work so he'd be in the right frame of mind when he saw her again, but when he got back, she was gone, she'd completely disappeared.

He'd parked out in front of her place for days, watching, watching, but she never came back. Her phone was shut down, too, she was obviously running from him, not surprising after the disrespectful way she'd behaved toward him. She'd teased him, then scorned him, and she'd acted so high and mighty--she was a damn whore, what right did she have to act so high and mighty?

She deserved to be taught a lesson, just like he'd had to teach Joey a lesson.

The anger came over him again, blackening his vision and making him sweat. Teach her a lesson, that's what he should do. That's what he was supposed to do, teach her a lesson, and get Joey back, that's what he'd do.

Now that he'd found her again.

This time, he wouldn't take any chances.

He found the ties he liked to use--black silken ones, thin but strong--and the gun. He'd never had to use it, didn't want to, he liked using his hands, but it was good for intimidation. They--the others, the not-Joeys--they did exactly as he wanted when he had that gun.

And, today, Lady Cassandra would do exactly as he wanted.

Exactly.

*****

Derek called a meeting first thing when he walked into the police station. Once everyone was gathered in the conference room, he passed around copies of a memo.

"All right, people, we have a suspect and I've got a couple of leads. We've got a description and a first name. Wyler, you and Kyle follow up with the people you spoke to yesterday, see if this jogs their memories any. Detective Warren, call this car rental place and see if anyone matching the description came in and rented a car during the time frame.

"I'll be talking with someone who might know something more concrete, then we'll get together this afternoon and compare notes. If anybody gets anything, call me immediately. Ok?"

Everyone nodded and took off with their orders.

Derek headed back to his office and did a little research on Dr. Jarvis, who turned out to have a local number. He was a general practitioner, and a photo posted on his website showed a graying, middle-aged man with a handsome face and warm smile. Derek dialed, and when he worked his way through the receptionist's defenses and had the man himself on the line, he introduced himself.

"Doctor Jarvis? My name is Derek Morgan, and I'm a detective with the New Orleans Police Department."

The doctor was silent for a moment, then his calm voice came over the line. "Yes, Detective Morgan. What's this all about? How can I help you?"

"I have a few questions concerning a case I'm working on, and it may be a little awkward for you. Is there someplace we could meet to talk?"

"Meet? Well--as I'm sure you can understand, I'm rather busy. You're welcome to come by my office, I'll make some time for you."

"Doctor, this is in regard to a series of homicides. The victims are teenage boys. Boys who earned their living by selling their bodies."

There was another moment of silence on the line, but Derek could hear a sharp intake of breath. "Homicides? Good lord, what in the world do you think I would know about that?"

"I think you may have some information about a person of interest that's related to the case. I got your name from someone named--Cassandra." Derek counted two beats, then added, "You say you want me to stop by your office?"

This time the doctor answered immediately. "No! No, no, that's not necessary. I--look, I think I can rearrange some things. There's a coffee shop on Avenue D, do you know it? I can meet you there in one hour."

"That'll be fine. See you there."

The doctor hung up without another word and Derek grinned slightly as he gathered his notes into a file. _All about the timing. _The coffee shop wasn't too far from the station; he could go on over and grab a little breakfast before the doctor arrived. No point having a conversation like that on an empty stomach.

*****

Dr. Jarvis sat stony-faced across the table from Derek. Derek's question hung in the air unanswered: "You _were_ a client of Lady Cassandra's, weren't you?"

Derek stirred a packet of sugar into his coffee. "Come on, now, Doc. Your cell number showed up again and again in her call list. Are you saying you dialed the wrong number twelve times in one week?"

"I just don't see how my private life could have any bearing on your case." The doctor spoke in a clipped, tight-lipped manner.

"I couldn't care less about what you do in your private life. But, I do care about those dead boys, and about making sure that that sick bastard gets locked up before he has a chance to kill another one. Now, I'll save you the humiliation of admitting that you repeatedly visited a male prostitute. What I want to know is, who else did you recommend his--or her, as she considers herself--services to?"

The doctor frowned in confusion. "Recommend? You must be joking. I wouldn't discuss this... situation with anyone, under any circumstances, not with a stranger, not even with my best friend."

Derek frowned as well. "You saying you never gave the Lady's number to anyone else?"

"Absolutely not."

"How did _you_ get it?"

Dr. Jarvis sighed. "They held a medical convention at a hotel here. I attended. I-I overheard the concierge speaking with a man about... I just--it was the first opportunity I'd ever had to--" Jarvis took out a handkerchief and mopped sweat from his brow. "The man gave me a card with her number on it. I called. It... It was going to be a one-time thing, but--"

"Ok, ok, that's fine. What happened to the card?"

"Once I put the number in my phone, I threw the card away. I didn't want to take a chance on my wife finding it."

"Weren't you afraid she'd find the number on your phone?"

"It's password protected."

"I see. So, could someone have overheard you talking with Cassandra?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't think so."

"Let me go over the description again. A guy in his thirties, average height, stocky, balding, named Ron. Did anyone like that come to you as a patient?"

"That could describe a lot of people, but at the moment, I don't have any patients named Ron."

"Well, does anyone like that ever work in your office? Maintenance guy, visiting nurse or--"

"No, no one. Well--"

The doctor pursed his lips in thought. Derek waited. Then, the doctor cocked his head and said, "There was a fellow working on our computer system recently. But--"

"Was his name Ron?"

"I honestly don't know, my receptionist was dealing with him. Let me check." Dr. Jarvis pulled out his cell phone and called his office. He looked up at Derek. "She says his name was Ron Thomas."

Derek sat up straighter. "Let me talk to her." Derek got all the pertinent information from the woman, scratching down notes in his file. After hanging up he looked pensively back at the doctor.

"So, this guy was a tech--handled phone connections as well as computer systems?"

"Yes, exactly."

A shiver came over Derek and he stared down at his hands. Something about phones... Spencer was going on and on about privacy laws and cell phones just the other day, what the hell was he saying? Sometimes Derek found it was better to tune the brilliant young man out rather than allowing his own brain to be utterly derailed.

Derek pulled his thoughts back to the matter at hand. "Did he have access to your office? Could he have overheard you talking to Cassie?"

"I--well, I don't know, I suppose so, I never noticed. People like that just seem to blend into the background, you know."

"Damn it." Phones. GPS tracking. Spencer had been complaining about the government's new-found ability to pinpoint a person's location within a few meters through the coordinates on their cells. Cassie's phone had been turned on...

"All right, Dr. Jarvis, that's all I need for now. Thank you for your cooperation, you can go."

The doctor's face melted into relief, then he asked, "This is all confidential, isn't it? There's no reason for my wife or anyone else to--"

"Not at this time, no. But, if something else comes up, I'll be in touch."

Dr. Jarvis nodded and hastened out of the shop. Derek picked up his phone and quickly punched in his home number. He let it ring ten times.

There was no answer.

**Pleeeeze review--as you know, they are like Easter eggs for us author-types. ;)**


	18. Blood

**A/N: Some blood and violence in this one, be aware... Oh, and please review!! Thank you muchly!**

**Seds**

*****

Cassie worked in the back bedroom all morning. She turned on a radio to keep herself company; then, using the nightstand and the dresser as a makeshift work station, she concentrated on ironing the clothes that had been crammed into bags and boxes and left on the floor of the closet.

At the bottom of one of the bags, she found her old silk robe, and when she pulled it out, she frowned, puzzled. It was unusually heavy. Then, she remembered why and a grin crossed her face. Of course--her gun.

Cassie fished the pistol out of the robe's pocket and held it in her hand, admiring the clean lines, checking to see that it was still loaded. She chuckled to herself, thinking of Derek's expression, should he come home and see her with it. He'd probably take it away from her, being the upstanding, by-the-book kind of police officer that he was. She stuck it between the mattress and the box springs of the bed, then leaned down to open a box.

Suddenly, over the shrill trumpets and mellow sax being broadcast by the local jazz station, Cassie heard a movement behind her. She paused.

"Derek?"

She straightened and turned to see a man standing in the doorway. He held a gun in his hand and was pointing it at Cassie.

"Don't move," he said quietly.

Cassie's breath began to come fast, and her heart felt as if it would fly out of her chest, but she spoke calmly. "My goodness, Ron, you startled me. What in the world are you doing here, hm?"

"I want to talk to Joey."

"Joey? You know, people always seem want to talk to folks who aren't here. It's just me, Ron, it's just Cassie. Why don't you put away that big old gun and--"

"Shut up." Ron strode forward and jammed the pistol into her neck, holding her arm in a brutal grip with his other hand and forcing her against the wall. "I want to talk to Joey, and I want to talk to him now." He looked down, appraising Cassie's outfit, and his eyes narrowed. "Take off those damn clothes, you whore. You're a man, why can't you act like one?" His voice had dropped to a raw growl.

Cassie's breathing was becoming erratic, but she nodded. "All right. All right, Ron. I'll do that, but you have to let me go. I can't take off my blouse with you holding my arm so tight, ok? That's it. There now, thank you." Ron reluctantly stepped back enough to give Cassie room to move and she began slowly unbuttoning her blouse with shaking fingers. She glanced at him and saw that he was sneering at her.

"Hurry up, bitch!" He suddenly lunged at her and tore open the front of her shirt. Cassie yelped in surprise, but hastily shrugged off the torn garment.

"Now, that," Ron gestured to her skirt. Cassie bit her lip, and reached behind her to unzip it. It slid down her legs, revealing the bottom of her lacy white slip, and Ron shook his head in disgust.

"Pathetic. You're a pathetic little queer, aren't you?" He gave a violent jerk to the front of the silky cloth and tore it off of her, leaving her in nothing but a pair of women's underpants.

"Take them _off." _Cassie set her jaw and slipped out of them. She clasped her arms across herself and shivered.

A smile flickered over Ron's face, and his voice softened. "There. See? You're a _boy. _God, Joey, how many times do I have to tell you that? A boy. A beautiful, beautiful boy..." Ron slowly ran the barrel of the gun downward from Cassie's neck, over her torso, to her genitals. He pressed the cold metal against her most sensitive area, making her flinch.

"You're _my _boy. Always have been... Always will be." Ron spoke as if he were in a pleasant dream. He placed a kiss on Cassie's cheek, and felt a tear collide with his lip. He laughed fondly.

"Aw, don't cry. Don't cry... It's going to be ok. I just want to talk to you, baby! I just want you back." He pulled the black silk ties out of his pocket and pointed to the bed. "Now, lie down." Cassie stood frozen, and he gave her a push. _"Now."_

He gestured with the gun toward the bed, then waved it threateningly in her face. Cassie took a deep breath and nodded. She walked the few steps to the bed, picked up the hot iron, made a fluid turn, and bashed it hard against the side of Ron's head in a roundhouse punch. The blow knocked him backwards, even as the burning metal seared his flesh, and he gave a howling shriek of pain. While he fought to recover his balance, Cassie hastily reached under the bed for her pistol.

*****

Derek wondered if he were wrong. If so, he'd just be wasting valuable time, going by the apartment. But, at this point, he didn't care. The thought of a violent madman going after Cassie sent him driving home at a high rate of speed. He arrived at his building and saw a car with a "Big Easy" rental sticker parked down the block; he grabbed his radio and called for backup.

Derek pulled his weapon and bounded up the stairs to his apartment; the door was wide open, and his heart jumped into his throat. He entered slowly, listening, listening; suddenly he heard a shot.

Then another.

"Cassie!" he barked, reflexively. To his horror, a red-faced man came stumbling out of the back bedroom, clutching his bloody shoulder. It seemed to Derek as if someone had flipped a switch and put everything into slow motion. Before he could speak again, the man raised his good arm and aimed a handgun at Derek's head. Derek could hear the click of the hammer being pulled back, and for a moment, he seemed to be watching from somewhere else in the room, watching himself about to die; but then, almost simultaneously, another shot blasted through the silence. Derek looked past the gunman and saw Cassie standing in the doorway. She was holding a pistol gripped in both her hands.

A bewildered look crossed the man's face. He lowered his gun, and dropped to his knees, then fell forward. When he was face-down on the floor, Derek could see blood spreading from the fresh hole in his back. Mechanically, Derek kicked the gun out of his hand and looked back at Cassie.

She dropped her weapon and pressed both hands against her belly. They were instantly bathed in red.

"Cassie..." Derek said brokenly as he rushed toward her. She slowly shook her head.

"No. I'm... Spencer."

Derek stared into the too-knowing dark eyes and caught him as he fell forward. He gathered the wounded boy into his arms and lowered him carefully to the floor.

"It's ok, Spence--you're going to be ok." Derek pulled out his radio again, and demanded that an ambulance be sent to his address, then he tore off his own shirt and wadded it firmly against the wound in Spencer's abdomen. He began caressing the boy's face. "Baby boy, please--stay with me, stay with me, kid..."

Spencer pulled his lips into a smile and looked up at Derek. "Not... going anywhere."

"That's good, that's real good, baby. Now, keep talking--tell me what happened."

Spencer forced himself to take a breath. "He--he wanted someone... named Joey. Thought he lived inside Cassie. He was going to kill her... She was scared, Derek. I couldn't--couldn't let him do it. Couldn't let her be hurt again." Spencer dragged in another deep breath, his eyes widening with the pain.

"Ok, babe, so what did you do?" Derek knew he had to keep him talking, had to keep him from going into shock if at all possible.

"I-I hit him. With the iron. Got the gun--tried to run. He... shot me. I shot back. He aimed at me again. Was going to shoot... then..." Spencer licked dry lips and groaned. "Hurts..."

"I know it does, baby boy, getting shot is no fun, but you're going to be ok. Now, tell me what happened next. Come on, kid, keep talking to me, I love the sound of your voice..." Derek gently moved Spencer's face upward so he could keep looking in his eyes. Spencer drew another ragged breath and continued.

"We heard you come in... I was down, but... I knew he'd kill you--I got up, followed him..." His breath caught and he looked at Derek in horror as the thought of what he'd done came back to him. "I _had_ to do it... I had to shoot him, Derek--or he'd of shot you... Oh, God..."

"And, you did real good, baby, you did so damn good. You're a hell of a shot, you know that? You got a future on the police force, don't you? Yeah, you do, you sure do, baby boy. Look at me, keep looking at me... Spencer?"

But Spencer was staring somewhere beyond Derek's right shoulder and Derek realized he was already going into shock. Just then, the backup he'd called for poured in, followed closely by the medics. Derek yelled for them to take care of Spencer, and soon the boy was on a stretcher, a blanket was spread over him, then an oxygen mask was placed over his face, and the crew was rushing him downstairs to the ambulance.

*****

Derek stood up. He'd been sitting in the waiting room for all of five minutes, and his body was twitching with residual adrenaline. He strode around the room, vaguely aware of the other people inhabiting the uncomfortable chairs--the friends, family members or spouses of people inside the emergency room. They all had the same expression, and all looked as if they were about to burst from tension.

Derek had been right there in the ambulance on the way, had watched them work on Spencer, had heard the remarks. "Lost a lot of blood... pulse is weak; watch that pressure, it's dropping--get the paddles!" They'd almost lost him, but by the time they pulled up at the hospital, he was stabilized. In the confusion, Derek had almost managed to make his way into the operating room with him, but the surgeon had firmly shooed him out.

He waited. He filled out paperwork. He sat. He stood. He got bad coffee. The minutes dragged on, and became hours. Occasionally, Derek would plead for information from the person at the intake desk, a passing nurse, or even an orderly, but no one could tell him anything. After two long hours, Derek was asked to come back to a consultation room, and the tired surgeon met him there.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Brooks. You are?"

"Derek Morgan. How is he, Doctor?"

"Mr. Morgan, may I ask the nature of your relationship with the patient?"

Derek stared. "You have got to be joking."

"No, I--I'm very sorry, but confidential medical information can only be released to designated family members. The patient is unconscious and a decision needs to be made--"

"He's my nephew."

The doctor gave Derek a frank stare. "He is?"

"Yeah--are you seriously going to argue with me about this? He's my goddamned nephew, he doesn't have another soul in the world who cares about him that can make decisions for him, now please--tell me what's going on."

"You're willing to sign off on--"

"I'll sign any damn thing you want, just tell me what we need to do!"

"All right. Basically, the bullet pierced his kidney on its way out of his body. We could go in and do repairs, but that's risky under the best of circumstances. He's lost a lot of blood and his blood pressure is very high. He could stroke out or--well, let's just say, in his condition, it would be placing a high demand on his heart and lungs, and he already has limited physical resources.

"On the other hand, we can treat him non-surgically. We would keep him sedated for several days, divert his kidney function through dialysis, and allow his body to heal itself. It's difficult to assess the degree of internal damage without actually going in, but at this time, I believe that it's non-life threatening. Of course, things could take a turn for the worse--and we would have lost a lot of time.

"So, that's the decision I'm asking you to make. Surgery now, or wait and hope that he will recover on his own. How shall I proceed?"

Derek's mind tried to shut down somewhere along the way, wanting just to be told what to do, but the doctor's question forced him to confront the choices. He put his head in his hands, and thought of Spencer's frail body. He'd gotten stronger, lately--he'd been eating better, and been true to his promise to stay away from drugs. But the stress of fighting his demons took a lot out of him and he still reminded Derek of one of those stick figures with no meat on his bones, that could be blown away by a strong wind.

Surgery would be an invasive ordeal on top of the brutal affects his body had already suffered from being shot. Derek knew Spencer needed time.

"Let's wait," he pronounced at last. "You'll monitor him, right? Make sure if anything changes that you'd--"

"Of course, absolutely."

"If he were your... nephew, is that what you'd do?"

The doctor smiled slightly. "I think it's a good choice, given the circumstances. I'll put in the orders."

"Can I see him?"

"They'll have to put him in a room, and he'll be unconscious. But, I'll have them call you when he's ready--shouldn't be more than thirty or forty minutes. You can wait outside here, it's a little nicer than the ER waiting room."

"Thanks, Doc." Derek found a seat on a soft leather couch and tried to read a magazine, but after only a few minutes, a cute little nurse that he'd been pumping for information back in the ER came up to him. With a furtive glance behind her, she leaned down and whispered, "Come on--he's awake. You'll have a couple of minutes to talk to him before they put him under for days, let's hurry..."

Derek shot up from the couch and followed her rapid steps to an elevator. They went down to the ER, to a room where Spencer was being prepped to go to a regular room, and the nurse let Derek in, winked, said "I'll be right outside if you need me," and closed the door behind her.

Derek approached the bed, trying to identify all the equipment around it. An IV tree with glucose and plasma drips; a heart monitor; a line for oxygen; other things that beeped and hummed. He looked down at Spencer, noting how the veins showed blue just under his pale skin. His eyes were closed, but he opened them when Derek was standing beside him. Derek placed a hand on Spencer's chest and felt his heart beating, and smiled. "That feels real good. Keep that up, kid. Just keep that up."

Spencer gave a weak grin. "I'll try to."

Derek nodded, then kissed his forehead. "You saved my life."

Spencer drew in a labored breath around his oxygen tube, then slowly exhaled, his eyes fluttering closed again. "You... saved mine."

Derek smiled. "Not exactly the same thing. I just happened to walk in at the right time."

"All in the timing... isn't that what you always say?"

Derek didn't answer, waited instead, then asked, "Are _we _ok? You and me, I mean?" Derek searched the still face for a clue, but got nothing.

Finally, Spencer whispered, "I don't know."

Derek took his hand, careful not to pull on the IV needle inserted in the back of it. "I know I was a bastard to you--"

"Yeah."

"I'm so sorry. I just--"

"I understand why you did it. You were right to do it. I just..." The dark-circled eyes opened and Spencer gave Derek a bleak look. "I don't know... if I can ever really trust you again..."

"Please, kid." Derek felt a hot stab of tears in his eyes. "Please. You have to forgive me. I was so focused on the case--"

"I know. But... you didn't have to... You hurt me, Derek. I--I just--"

The little nurse poked her head back into the room. "The doctor's on his way. He'll kill me if he finds you in here."

"Ok." Derek looked back at Spencer. "Please, Spence. When you're better, we'll work this out, ok? Please. Please just try to forgive me. Just try."

Spencer's eyes had already closed as the sedative began to course through his veins. The nurse motioned frantically at Derek to come on, and he pressed another kiss on Spencer's forehead, then strode out of the room, feeling as if someone had reached into his chest and pulled his heart right out of it.


	19. Hotch

**A/N: Hey there! In this chapter, we meet someone we all know and love! Hope you like it--plez review... Thank you!!**

*****

Derek visited Spencer every day. Sometimes, he'd spend a whole morning or afternoon with him; other times, it would be only a few minutes. He'd pop in on his lunch hour, or scoot in five minutes before visiting hours were over, but the amount of time didn't matter--Derek just needed to see him, needed to touch his hair, to stroke his face. The boy was unconscious, but Derek always talked to him and made a point of pressing his cold hands between his own, trying to warm them, trying to impart some of his strength and energy into the frail body.

On the first day, he'd asked a nurse if she thought Spencer could hear him, and she'd just shrugged.

"It's hard to say--he might, but he probably won't remember anything when he wakes up."

Derek had looked back at the still figure on the hospital bed and smiled. "My boy remembers everything," he'd thought. So, when he visited, he'd tell him about his day. And, he'd tell him again and again how sorry he was, and how much he missed him. There was never any response, but that was ok.

Derek felt certain he could hear him.

*****

Sometimes, looking at the pale, translucent skin and the skeletal frame under the covers, Derek thought Spencer's life blood was being drained out of him instead of being regenerated. But, the doctors and nurses assured him that he was coming along well, and that there would likely be no need for surgery.

That news had cheered Derek considerably, but going back to his apartment every day was becoming more and more depressing. It had never been a particularly homey place, not until Spencer moved in, and now--knowing what he was missing--it was worse than ever. The boy's books and clothes were constant reminders of him not being there, and Derek found himself missing the kid more than he'd ever thought possible.

Lying alone and half-asleep in his bed at night, he'd often find himself reaching for Spencer--an automatic gesture from the part of his brain that still expected to feel warm flesh nestled next to him. Then, he'd catch himself and feel stupid, then bereft. He missed holding him, missed feeling the sinewy arms and legs wrapped around him, and the soft, generous lips sliding wetly over his neck. He missed that most delicious, fevered moment when he'd slip past his tightness and bury himself deeply inside the boy, and the way, somehow, their movements synchronized into a perfect machine of heat and energy and shivering pleasure.

And he missed afterwards, when Spencer would wriggle into him, a little sweaty, soft breaths on Derek's chest, saying how good it felt to be in his arms, how safe he felt with him...

But, more than anything, he just missed him _being_ _there--_hearing him move around in another room, listening to him talk and laugh--he'd been laughing more, before everything went all to hell--seeing him stretched out on the couch, lost in his reading, only to drop his book and playfully put his feet in Derek's lap when he joined him.

Knowing that Spencer might never feel the same way about him again, that he might have destroyed the loving relationship he'd worked so hard to help create, made the pain that much more fierce. He refused to think about what would happen if Spencer decided not to come back to him.

*****

Another thing Derek worried about was Spencer's mom. He knew Spencer wrote to her every day; he had no clue as to the woman's condition, whether she was aware of the passing of time, or whether she'd notice the sudden lack of letters from her son, but he supposed it would not be good for her in any case. He also knew Spencer would want him to do what he could to help her, so a couple of days after Spencer was shot, he'd held one of the bills from the sanitarium in his hand and pondered giving them a call to explain the situation. But, he honestly didn't know what to say, so he set it aside for the moment.

Then he got busy and forgot. He was vividly reminded when his home phone rang at nine o'clock one night, and a worried female voice came on the line.

"Hello? Hello, my name is Diana Reid. Is Spencer there?"

Derek had had plenty of practice in dealing with distraught and bereaved relatives of victims, but this was different. He found himself stammering.

"Uh--uh, no, no ma'am, this is a, uh, friend of his, my name's Derek. Hi, ma'am, uh--"

"Where is my son?"

"Oh, uh--well, I need to talk to you about that. He's ok. But, he had a--a little accident, and uh, well--he's in the hospital."

He could hear a gasp, and then the phone clattered to the floor. He could hear Spencer's mother speaking in a panicked voice to someone else, and soon a soothing female voice was on the line.

"Hello, I'm Amy Daniels, I'm Mrs. Reid's caseworker. I understand her son's in the hospital?"

Derek sighed in relief. "Yes, ma'am, he--he's unconscious. I'm his, uh, friend, and roommate, Derek Morgan. I know I should have contacted you all, but--"

"Is he going to be ok?"

"Yes, I think so. He, uh, got shot."

The woman was silent for a moment, then Derek could hear her giving someone directions. "Take her back. Take her back to her room, and give her something. Hurry up. It's ok, Mrs. Reid, Spencer's going to be ok. He just can't write to you right now, and he won't be able to talk on the phone for a while. I'm going to get more information, you just relax and I'll come see you in a bit. That's right, go with Tony, it's ok!" The woman's attention came back to Derek. _"Shot? _My God, what happened?"

"Well, it's a long story. He's had some internal injuries and they're keeping him sedated, but he's recovering steadily. Is there anything I can do for his mom? I know she's going to be worried sick."

"Yes, she counts on those letters from Spencer. Um... It's very important that she maintain a routine. Is there any way _you_ could write to her? Just a brief note, just tell her how Spencer's doing. I think that'll make a world of difference to her."

Derek tried to think how he would get the time to write a letter to someone he didn't even know, but he found himself agreeing to the plan.

"Ok, I can do that. But, what kind of stuff should I say? I mean, right now, he's just hooked up to a bunch of machines and IV drips, he's not really doing anything..."

"You could tell her about his doctors and nurses--their names, what they look like, anything at all. And, maybe you could put in something about what's going on with you--movies you've seen, or if you go for a walk, or shopping--that's mostly what Spencer would do, just little anecdotes about people he meets, about his day. It keeps her connected, and--it makes her happy."

Derek nodded. "Ok. I'll do it. Is there anything I should stay away from?"

"Don't tell her he was shot. I'll tell her he--fell down some stairs or something."

"Ok. Well, thanks."

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate this. Diana's a wonderful person, and Spencer's such a good son. I really hate to hear that something so terrible has happened to him."

"Yeah. Me, too. But, I think he'll be ok."

"All right. Thanks again!"

Derek hung up and frowned. He'd have to find Spencer's stash of note cards and stamps, and get right into the habit of writing to the woman he hoped to one day be able to consider his mother-in-law.

*****

One thing Derek wasn't concerned about was his job. He'd had a twinge or two of worry when he was first called in to give a statement about the shootings that had taken place in his home. He'd worried that his relationship with Spencer would be scrutinized, that Cassie's persona would be discovered, and that her role in the killer's psychosis would come to expose Derek's past patronage of her services.

But, he had simply explained that he had befriended the young addict when he decided to get clean, and that he'd been helping him to get back on his feet. He'd told them that the boy had been stalked by Ron Thomas, and that Spencer had come to Derek, asking if he could stay with him for a while to throw the creep off his trail, but that Thomas had tracked him down by hacking into his cell phone.

It was a flimsy story, but Palmer and the other higher-ups in the police department seemed only too happy to accept it. Derek supposed that they were pleased to be able to stamp "closed" on such a potentially high-profile case, and that Palmer was again reaping the rewards of having his top detective being credited with cleverly putting the clues together. Like many situations in New Orleans, no one wanted to delve too deeply into something that could be easily passed off as "good enough."

Which was another reason Derek had made up his mind to get out of the job, and out of the city, just as soon as he could come up with a way to do it. And, just as soon as he'd be able to take Spencer with him.

*****

The way out came in the form of a telephone call.

Derek's cell rang while he was eating a hasty lunch in his car. He glanced at the number and didn't recognize it. He frowned as he chewed, and started to ignore it, thinking it was a wrong number or some sort of sales call. But, as he swallowed, he shrugged, and punched the "talk" button.

"Morgan here."

"Detective Morgan. You don't know me, but I was given your name by one of my colleagues, Agent Russell McDonald. Do you remember speaking with him?"

"McDonald?" Derek asked, bewildered. Then, he placed the name. "Oh! With the FBI--yeah, yeah, of course. I interviewed with him a few months ago--"

"Yes, that's right. My name is Aaron Hotchner, and I'm a Supervisory Special Agent with the Bureau's Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia."

Derek had lost interest in his fast-food burger and was fumbling around for a pen and paper. "Quantico? Wow, ok..."

"I was wondering if you'd be interested in meeting with me to discuss a position I have available on my team."

"A--position? You mean, a job? With the FBI? Uh, yeah, you could say I'd be interested!" Derek could scarcely believe what he was hearing.

"Very good. Would you be able to fly up in the next day or two for an interview?"

Derek's heart fell. There was no way he was leaving town with Spencer still in such a shaky condition.

"Oh, God. Wow, this is a really bad time for me, Agent Hotchner, I--"

"Well, if I flew down there, could we meet?"

Derek was silent for a moment. Then he blinked, amazed. "You'd be willing to come all the way to New Orleans just to interview me?"

Agent Hotchner smiled slightly. "To be honest, I have some business down that way, although I hadn't intended to make the trip quite this quickly. But, I'm very interested in filling this position, and your work of late has been quite impressive. I could be there tomorrow afternoon, say around 2:00?"

"Yes--yes, sir. That would be great. I can pick you up at the airport--"

"Good. I'll text my flight number to you. See you then."

"Thank you! I--" But, the agent had already hung up. Derek stared at his phone and shook his head.

He was already getting butterflies in his stomach.

Later that evening, sitting beside Spencer at the head of his bed, he held the boy's hand and told him about the call. "Damn, Spence, if this works out, I'll get us packed up and on the road to Quantico so fast, it'll make your head spin. Think of it, babe--you and me, starting over. New job, new town, new people. You can go to school out there, too..."

He squeezed Spencer's hand and smiled at his still form. "It gets cold in the east, you know. We'll have to get you a good coat, I bet you don't even own a coat, do you? And, some scarves, and sweaters, and gloves. It's going to be great, Spencer. Starting fresh, right? Yeah..."

He smoothed a lock of hair away from Spencer's face and sighed. He wanted this job. He wanted to leave New Orleans. But, not without Spencer. "You got to get better quick, kid. No pressure or anything, but--see what you can do, ok? If I get this job, things'll start happening really fast. I want you there with me, I want you right beside me, every step of the way." He looked down at the floor and his voice became softer. "I know you're still mad at me, babe. But, I'm going to make it all up to you. I promise. Just get well, ok? Just get well so I can make it up to you... Ok. Well, I--I'll see you later. I'll come by tomorrow and tell you how the interview went."

He leaned over and kissed Spencer's cheek, hoping he'd heard him, hoping that somewhere in his quiet mind, he was rooting for Derek. He then headed for home, knowing that he'd be lucky to get even a few hours of sleep, as excited as he was.

*****

The next day, Derek received a call from the agent, confirming his flight time and a meeting point. Derek asked, "How will I recognize you?"

Agent Hotchner quietly replied, "I'll find you."

"Ok, I'm a black guy, 6'1", shaved head--"

"I know what you look like, Detective Morgan."

"Oh." Well, of course. Derek smiled into the phone. Those FBI guys probably knew what color underwear he had on and what he'd had for breakfast that morning.

Derek arrived at the airport forty-five minutes early. He was taking no chances on keeping the man waiting. As promised, the tall, gaunt-looking agent strode up to him, introduced himself and shook his hand firmly. They decided to hold the interview in Hotchner's hotel room, since Derek didn't feel comfortable taking him to the police station, where people's curiosity would run wild.

The agent invited Derek to call him Hotch--"Everyone does..."--and had room service bring up some coffee for them. He wasted no time with small talk, just launched into a series of heavy-duty interview questions. He was well-versed on Derek's resume and was interested mostly in learning how his mind worked. Derek found himself pouring out information, with Hotch supplying only the minimal number of words absolutely necessary to move his answers along. The man's expression never changed, and Derek had no clue as to whether he was impressing him or making a fool of himself.

It was a relief when Hotch finally gave what Derek gathered was intended to be an encouraging smile. "You're doing fine, Detective. Those were my procedural questions. Now, I have some personal questions for you."

"Are those legal?" Derek asked with a grin.

Hotch stared at him humorlessly. "No. But, I'm asking anyway--take it up with the EEOC, if you have a problem with any of them."

"No, no, just kidding. Go ahead."

Hotch consulted a file he had open in front of him. "I see that your mother is alive and living in Chicago, where you grew up. You have two sisters, both unmarried. Your father is dead, killed while attempting to stop a hold-up when you were ten years old. Is that what motivated you to go into law enforcement?"

"Ah--it definitely played a part, yes."

"I see. What is your religion?"

Derek stared. "Excuse me?"

Hotch didn't repeat himself, simply waited for an answer.

"Uh--well, no specific affiliation. I believe in God--"

"Do you have children?"

"Uh, no, not that I know of, ha ha. I mean, no. I've never been married."

"I know that--but, that doesn't mean you don't have children. Are you currently in a relationship?"

"Ok, now, I can kind of see how my religion might have some bearing on this position, but what--"

"Detective Morgan, as unit chief it is my responsibility to understand and be prepared for any contingency that might befall the members of my team. You've dealt with two cases involving psychopaths in the last six months, so I know I don't have to describe the sort of criminals the BAU deals with on a daily basis.

"If you get this position, I will need to know your emotional weaknesses. I'll need to know how a suspect can get to you. Your mother, your sisters--they could become targets. I will always do my best to attend to those situations ahead of time, but I have to have accurate information. Now, if you're involved in a romantic relationship of some substance, I'll need to know about it."

"I--" Derek cast his gaze out the window while he considered the question. He wasn't afraid to tell Hotch that he was involved with another man, but neither did he want to reveal his rather complicated situation until it was absolutely necessary. He took a deep breath. "Hotch, if you hire me, I'll tell you everything you need to know. Until then, let me just say that I was in a relationship that I had great hopes for, but right now, things are up in the air, and I'd rather not discuss it, if you don't mind."

Hotch narrowed his eyes, then nodded. "All right. Please understand, anyone close to you who works in a government job or other potentially sensitive position could compromise your effectiveness--"

"No, no, it's nothing like that. It's just--I don't know if we'll be together much longer or not."

Hotch sighed, then sorted through some more papers. "Detective, if you accept this position, it will be contingent upon the successful completion of a series of classes in behavioral analysis. You'll be expected to move into the vicinity of our headquarters, and to be available at a moment's notice during the times when you're on call--and you'll be on call all the time. I can tell you from my own experience that your personal life, and possibly your health, will be significantly impacted by both the hours and the travel, as well as the very nature of the work." He shot a sharp look at Derek. "Have I managed to talk you out of it?"

Derek grinned. "No, sir. Not at all."

"Very well. Detective Morgan, welcome to the BAU team." Hotch stuck out his hand, and Derek automatically reached for it and shook it. He felt as if he'd been hit by Cassie's frying pan again, this time in a good way.

"Wow. Just--just like that?" he asked, sounding dazed.

Hotch shrugged. "Agent McDonald wanted to hire you himself, but he got slammed with budget cuts right after he interviewed you. When he described your experience and history to me, the decision was 90% made. I just needed to speak with you to be sure."

"Well, thank you. This is--this is an honor, Agent Hotchner. Thank you for giving me this opportunity."

Both men stood up. Hotch gave him an almost-warm smile, then a warning glare. "Just don't screw it up. I hate doing interviews." The smile returned as he sat down and handed Derek a packet of papers from his file folder. "This should get you started. I'll send you the rest of the paperwork when I get back to the office. In the meantime, you can register for the classes and take most of them online. And, I'd suggest finding a good realtor, if you're interested in buying a house."

"Great, yeah, I'll do that. Thanks again, Hotch." Sensing that he was dismissed, Derek headed to the hotel room door, then turned and looked back at the man sitting stoically at the table. He cleared his throat before speaking in a firm voice.

"I'm gay, by the way."

Hotch looked up impassively. "I gathered."

Derek frowned. "You did? I didn't think I was so, uh, obvious."

"You're not, not at all. It's the way you answered my relationship question. You managed to avoid pronouns, and it was the only time during the whole interview that you avoided looking me in the eye."

Derek nodded then grinned. "After these classes, will I be able to pick up on subtle stuff like that, too?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Cool. Well, thanks again."

Derek raised a hand in farewell, and Hotch watched the tall, handsome man leave. He allowed himself a small sigh of satisfaction. He'd chosen well. The team needed someone like Derek Morgan--brash, confident, charming, but someone who really knew his stuff, really understood what it was like out there. And the gay thing--well, they all had their quirks. He wondered what the boyfriend was like. Probably an ex-football jock or something.

If nothing else, it would certainly lend a little extra spice to the office gossip mill.


	20. Not On the Same Page

**A/N: Hey there. Ok, an angsty little chapter here... Hope you enjoy! ;)**

**Seds**

*****

Cold. When Spencer first began to approach consciousness, it seemed to him as if his body had been stored in a deep freeze for a very long time. Eyes still closed, he extended his fingers and made contact with the nubby texture of the cotton blanket that so inadequately covered his body. He recognized it for what it was, having sat beside his mother's bed in more than one hospital room in his life.

He tried to open his eyes, but the tiny muscles that controlled the lids refused to work. He gave it another try, and the spare hospital room was blearily revealed. His neck was stiff, and he told himself to move slowly. He didn't know how long he'd been lying there, but he knew that forcing weak muscles to suddenly perform could cause pain and damage. He carefully swiveled his head to the side and his vision cleared. He saw Derek sitting beside him with a newspaper folded on his lap, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.

A smile tugged at the corners of Spencer's mouth and he took a deep breath, only to be annoyed by the oxygen tube in his nostrils. He brought his hand up to his face and pulled it away, but groaned as the IV inserted in the back of his hand was disturbed. He used his other hand to search for the bed control, but couldn't find it. He looked around for a cup, hoping someone had left a water pitcher handy, but no luck.

He started to say Derek's name, but his throat hurt, and he had a vague and unpleasant memory of a tube being pulled out earlier that morning. He wondered what day it was and looked around for a TV remote, but he couldn't find that, either. He decided to concentrate on getting his body moving, and wiggled first a toe, then a foot. He tried to draw his knees up, but the pain in his side discouraged him, and he had a flash of memory--a loud noise, pain, blood--and he shook his head.

Then, the memories began cascading into his brain all at once. Ron Thomas' face. The feel of a gun in his hand. Hearing Derek's voice. Fear, and not caring about the fear. A vivid image of looking down at his hands and seeing them covered in blood...

Spencer coughed. He would have sat straight up, except for a number of tubes trailing into or out of his body, and weak muscles. He tried to slow his rapid breathing, and looked again at Derek.

"Derek," he managed to whisper. The man's eyes flew open and he looked at Spencer in delighted surprise.

"Hey, kid!" He shifted in his seat and leaned over so that he could run a hand through Spencer's hair and look into his eyes. "How you doing?"

"Did you pass?" Spencer croaked. He remembered hearing Derek say something about struggling to pass a class.

"What?"

"Your class. Did you pass?"

Derek chuckled. "Ah, see there. I knew you could hear me. I don't know yet, babe. I'll find out today."

"Water?"

"I'll see if you can have some." Derek rose, just as nurse came in.

"Well, look at those big brown eyes!" she remarked with a smile. "How are you feeling, Mr. Reid?"

"Ok. Thirsty."

"Can I give him some water?" Derek asked.

"Yes, go ahead. I just need to check a few things."

The cool water slid down Spencer's throat and he sighed. "Can you help me sit up a little more?" Derek found the control and brought the bed up to a 45 degree angle.

The nurse smiled approvingly. "Well, this is all looking very good. I believe we'll be able to remove the catheter today!"

"Ow." Derek grimaced at Spencer, then grinned and patted his shoulder. "Sounds like you're on the road to recovery, youngster."

Spencer nodded. His body felt rubbery, but his mind was going a mile a minute.

*****

Three days later, Spencer was freed from all machines, tubes and medications, apart from a mild pain-killer. The doctor still wanted to monitor him for a little longer, but he was already using terms like, "When you go home," and "Once you're at home," and "As soon as we discharge you..."

Derek brought Spencer some t-shirts and pajama pants from home so he wouldn't have to suffer the humiliation of taking his first steps out into the hall wearing a hospital gown. Derek was there for that, along with a nurse, and the two of them made sure Spencer's trip to the airy atrium was safe. Derek held his elbow securely until he was sure his boy wouldn't fall, then stayed close to him in case Spencer needed to grab him to maintain his balance, but he did fine.

Derek was eager to get him home, to have him become a real part of the excitement Derek was experiencing as he readied himself for his move to Virginia and his new career with the BAU. But, when he tried to talk to Spencer about making plans, he found they weren't exactly on the same page.

Not even close.

"Baby boy, you're looking better every day. I bet you're looking forward to getting out of that bed and going home, aren't you?"

Spencer chewed his lip and looked up at Derek with a worried expression. "Well--I've been trying to figure out how to talk to you about that. I don't exactly know where 'home' is going to be, for me."

The words hit Derek in the gut, and he stared. "What the hell does that mean? You'll be with me, in Quantico. I'm going to buy us a house, and--"

"Don't. I mean, don't buy it for _us_. I..."

"Bullshit! What the hell is this? You're coming with me, Spencer, that's all there is to it."

"No, I'm not. I-I can't. This isn't easy to say, but--"

Derek felt his mind shutting down as he instantly rejected what Spencer was trying to communicate.

"Spence--"

"I'm sorry, Derek. I don't know how to explain this, but--"

"Stop. Just stop. This is ridiculous, you're just confused after being out for so long."

"No. I've been thinking about this, and I know what I want. And, I need to move on. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry--"

Derek stared blankly, then a rush of anger flowed through him. "Ok, I get it. You can't forgive me, can you? You can't forgive me for the way I got Cassie back, you want to punish me--"

"No! It's not that, it's not that at all." Spencer pulled himself up on one elbow and reached for Derek's hand. "Although, I learned something from that incident, from the whole thing--Ron Thomas, getting shot, all of it. I realized that I have to take care of _myself. _I can't go through life depending on you, depending on Cassie. It became more clear to me, every time I pulled that trigger.

"At that moment, I stopped being afraid. I knew I wasn't going to let myself become a victim again. I knew I might die, but if I did--at least it would be on myterms. _Mine. _And, I wasn't going to let you get hurt because of me. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, but I took control, and it felt good. It felt good, can you understand that? For the first time in my life, I felt--I felt like a man."

Derek's grim expression softened and he gripped Spencer's hand tightly. "Ok, kid, I get that. But, that just means you're growing up, that you're getting well. It doesn't mean we can't be together!"

"But, that's exactly what it means. Ever since I was... kidnapped, I've been so scared. Scared to face things, scared to try things. You helped me, Derek. You helped me so much. You showed me that I can be strong. So, now--I want to start over, on my own. Just me. I can't do it if I can turn to you every time something difficult gets in my way. I'll just... I'll just keep needing you, and then all of this will have been for nothing."

Derek searched Spencer's eyes and saw the same determination he'd seen in them back when the kid decided to detox on his own. "But, Spencer--this is crazy, what are you going to do? How will you take care of yourself with no money, no place to go?"

"I'm going back to Vegas for a while. I want to see my mom, make sure she's doing all right. I can get work there, now--I don't look like I'm twelve anymore, and with my fake ID, I can work in the casinos, or tend bar, or something. I can make a lot of money--without debasing myself."

"Oh, my God! Casinos? Tending bar? That's a terrible idea--"

"I know that town, I know how to work it. I'll be ok."

Derek shook his head, casting around frantically for the words he needed. "You're just a kid, you'll get sucked in--drugs, people who just want to use you--"

"No, Derek," he said softly. "I'm _not _a kid, and I'm not stupid. Not like that, not anymore. I'll be fine.

"Look, if you want to see your mom, I'll take you there. I have a few more weeks of classes before I have to report to the BAU, we could take a long weekend and--"

_"No, _Derek." Spencer spoke quietly. "I know myself. I have to take responsibility. If I stay with you, I'll never get there. I'll always look to you to save me, to protect me."

Derek shot him a grim look. "And, would that be so bad? I thought we were doing pretty damn good together, so far."

"It wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be fair to you. You deserve a partner, not a child."

Derek's eyes narrowed and his voice dropped to a raw growl. "Aw, fuck--do not try to make it sound like you're doing me a favor, kid. Do not."

Spencer took a deep breath. "You saved my life, Derek. More than once, in more ways than one. I'll never forget that, and I'll never stop--" His voice broke, and they were both silent for a long while. Then Derek spoke, keeping his gaze steadily on the wall in front of him. He knew if he looked at the kid, he'd break down.

"I was planning to start a new life with you, Spencer. I thought... I thought I'd found what I was looking for."

Spencer tried to laugh through the tension and squeezed his hand. "Hey, come on! It's not like we'll never see each other again. You can come to Vegas and I'll show you a good time. And, I'll come visit you--I've always wanted to go to the Smithsonian and see the Washington Monument and all that stuff, and from Quantico it's an easy drive, right? We can email, and write letters--we'll stay in touch--"

"No, thanks. I don't need a pen pal."

Spencer dropped his eyes. "I'm sorry, Derek."

"It's ok, kid. Can't say I blame you. I was just--I was fooling myself all along, I guess. I thought there was something solid between us, but... Well. I better get going. You need anything? I'll stop in tomorrow, see what the doc says about letting you out of here." Derek had shifted into professional mode, using the voice he had developed for dealing with people when there was blood and smoke and confusion all around them, and he needed to be the calm one.

"No, I'm ok."

"Ok. Talk to you later."

Spencer nodded as he watched Derek disappear from the room. He lay back and closed his eyes as an old kind of pain washed over him. He'd hurt Derek, and he knew it.

He seemed to have a knack for hurting the people he cared for most in the world.

******

Derek knew a thing or two about heartbreak. The first time had been at the age of ten, when he lost his father. The next time was a few years later, from an ongoing betrayal at the hands of a trusted adult. Derek had learned to survive, and he'd learned to jam his feelings into some part of his soul where they couldn't interfere with him getting what he wanted, but the pain never really went away. Now, the hurt seemed overwhelming and he didn't know what to do.

Now, it was almost impossible to nail the lid shut on what he was experiencing. All he could do was put one foot in front of the other, take his classes, finish his time at the N.O.P.D., feed himself, and at the end of the day, try to sleep.

He still came to the hospital every day. He didn't let himself hope that Spencer would turn to him and say, "Hey, I don't know what I was thinking--of course I'm going to Quantico with you!" He didn't, and he wouldn't.

They didn't talk much, and Derek never stayed long. And, as soon as he had a date for his release, Spencer asked Derek to buy him a one-way plane ticket to Las Vegas--"I'll pay you back as soon as I can"--and to please put some clothes in a bag for him. He didn't want to go back to Derek's apartment.

"What do you want me to do with your stuff--your books, Cassie's clothes, and all?" Derek had asked woodenly.

"Sell them. Or, have some charity pick them up. Whatever you want to do. I won't have any place for the books, and Cassie--well, hopefully she won't, you know--need them."

They'd looked at each other, and Derek had nodded. Cassie hadn't surfaced even once since Spencer woke up. Derek often found himself wishing that he could talk to her. If he could, he'd ask her if this was the right thing for Spencer, and if not, what should he do about it? And then it occurred to him that what she had wanted, what they both had wanted, had come true. Spencer had reached some sort of peace within himself and found his strength.

Derek had just never imagined that it would mean the end of their relationship.

*****

The day of Spencer's departure came as something of a relief for Derek. The thought of continuing to look at the dark eyes, the long limbs, the sweet lips while knowing that their owner didn't want him anymore was unendurable. He didn't allow himself to think about much of anything where Spencer was concerned, because thinking would lead to feeling, and Derek was doing a pretty good job of _not_ feeling. But, he knew there was an expiration date on his stamina and in a way, he just wanted it all to be over.

At the airport, he thrust a wad of traveler's checks and cash into Spencer's hand. The boy looked down at it, then back at Derek and shook his head vehemently. "No, Derek! I can't take this, it's too much--"

"Take it, pretty boy. I don't want to think of you wandering around Vegas with no place to stay, no way to get around. This'll cover a hotel and some taxi fare until you get settled. And, a few meals, too, I hope."

Spencer stared at him, then threw his arms around his neck. Derek breathed him in, and held him as tightly as he could, as tightly as he dared, and forced himself not to cry. When Spencer pulled away, his face was flushed and Derek could see tears on his lashes. Spencer ran his nose over his sleeve and said, "Well, thank you. I'll be ok. I'll call you when I get there--"

"You better."

"Yeah. And, I'll send you some money as soon as I have a job."

"Jesus, kid, don't worry about that."

"No, I will. I just... I just want to... I still want you to be proud of me, Derek."

"I am. You don't know. I really am." Derek glanced at the cop watching them. He knew he needed to move his car. "Just be careful, ok? And, say 'hi' to your mom. Tell her--tell her, I hope she's feeling ok."

"I will. Ok, I better go! Bye, Derek. I'll see you, you know, sometime--" He smiled crookedly and raised a hand in farewell, then turned to head into the airport.

"Spencer!"

"Yeah?"

"You can always come back, you know. Anytime, kid. If you change your mind--just come back. Come back to me. Ok?"

Spencer just nodded, then hurried off, long legs moving awkwardly after such a lengthy period of recovery. Derek stared after him, then waved at the cop who was gesturing at him to get a move on. He sat back behind the wheel and drove off.

Derek began ticking off the things he needed to get done that night. He had an exam to study for, clothes to wash, and he needed to eat something healthy for a change. He'd have to figure out what to do about a place to live in Virginia, then start packing, and arrange for a moving van. And, he'd have to do something with Spencer's things...

He still didn't feel anything, and if he could keep his mind on the evening ahead of him, he wouldn't. He couldn't.

Because, if he did, he'd just curl up into a ball and cry.


	21. Between the Lines

**A/N: Ok, FYI--we are very close to the end! Just one more chapter after this one. BTW, this chapter has some s-e-x in it, so be aware. **

**And, on a side note, the wonderful CMAli has created a fun series of "interrogations" with Criminal Minds fic writers, the second of which features... (drum roll)... ME! Check it out and leave her some love. It can be found under her author name or the title, which is "Interrogations." **

**Love you all!!!**

**Seds**

In the time leading up to his first day at the BAU, Derek had begun to doubt himself. He felt that he was leaving the better part of his soul in New Orleans, even though there was nothing left for him in that town anymore, and he couldn't wait to leave. Without Spencer, it was just a dirty, dangerous city, with hot muggy weather and not enough money.

The day he turned in his badge and gun was one of the rare really good days he'd had since Spencer left. He had no regrets about leaving the force, other than a twinge or two for the few up-and-coming officers and detectives that were still not burned out. He gave them his number and told them to call if they ever needed to talk, and they promised to do so.

And, there was Cassie's ghost. She seemed to walk beside him as he went from chatting at the front desk to cleaning out his office, then down the hall to the conference room where they had first met. He stared in, remembering.

"Why, Officer Morgan, I had no idea that the N.O.P.D. employed such handsome gentlemen. I just know that you're going to find my things for me--I can feel it in my bones. Now, where's that silly old form you wanted me to fill out?" She'd looked at him with those huge brown eyes that sparkled with mischief as well as sincere admiration, and he'd found himself flailing to maintain his composure in a way he hadn't acted since he was a twelve-year-old schoolboy.

He remembered every word she'd ever said to him, her laugh, the way she moved, and what she'd been wearing. Leaving the station seemed like one more unspoken goodbye to the person who had sustained him in so many ways before he met Spencer.

But, otherwise, he felt a sense of relief that almost countered the heavy depression that had dogged him in previous weeks. And, only a few days later, as he was packing up the contents of his apartment, he heard on the news that Police Chief Palmer had been suspended--an FBI investigation had brought to light some shady dealings the man had apparently been doing with federal money. A smile crossed Derek's face and he wondered if Agent Hotchner's "business" in New Orleans had had anything to do with that.

He was willing to bet that it did.

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Derek had house-shopped online and narrowed his choices down to three. When he went to Quantico to complete his courses, he checked out each one and finally made a decision--he settled on a small house that needed repairs, but it was in a good area for a good price. He was handy with tools, and it would be easy to sell, if he ever needed to do so.

Once Derek moved to the new city, everything sped up to a point where he had little time to think, and for that he was grateful. But, it wasn't the way he had imagined it would be. Going home to an empty house hadn't been part of the equation. Still, the pain was easier to push aside when there was so much to learn and do and discover, and the ragged stabs of loss gradually lessened as the days became weeks.

Mr. Derek Morgan could hardly wait to become Special Supervisory Agent Derek Morgan, and he hoped that with the badge would come some sort of soothing memory loss so that he could finally sleep alone in peace.

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Penelope Garcia stared.

It was Derek's first official day at the BAU and Tech Analyst Penelope Garcia couldn't _help_ but stare. She gamely tried to absorb the words Hotch was saying to her, but became hopelessly distracted shortly after "... our new agent, Derek Morgan."

_"Our," _she thought. "Ours" meant _hers_--it was like Christmas! Finally--some eye candy for the BAU ladies. She made a mental note to bake some cookies for Hotch. She believed in encouraging positive behavior.

She extended her hand and almost gasped when Derek's warm flesh enveloped hers in a snug grip. She could tell instantly what kind of man he was--the kind who could handle himself in any situation, the kind who could shoot an unsub without a second thought. The kind who could wrap those powerful, sinewy arms around a girl and make her feel warm and safe and loved.

And then he smiled, and it was a killer smile, and Garcia's heart rate shot up. Because, Derek Morgan was...

Breathtaking.

She stifled the urge to out-and-out flirt. Time enough for that later, when Hotch wasn't around to give her a disapproving glare. For now, she was content to bestow a killer smile of her own on the gorgeous hunk before her, wink, and say "Call me Garcia."

Derek absorbed the details of the lively blonde's presence, then glanced around her colorful office. After being introduced to a series of gray walls, grim work spaces, and subdued demeanors, Garcia was a delight. Derek felt an instant connection to her.

Meeting the rest of the team was a pleasure, too. Gideon, Elle, JJ--all struck him as consummate professionals, but each seemed to have a special aura about them, and each seemed to bring something unique to the table. As they gathered in the conference room for Derek's first team meeting, he looked around and wondered what it was, exactly, that Hotch thought he, Derek, would be bringing with him.

xxxxxxxxxx

A few days later, Hotch stood at Derek's desk and without saying a word, tipped his head in the direction of his office. Morgan understood that he was being summoned and quickly followed behind him. Once inside, Hotch closed the door and Derek gave his boss a puzzled look.

"What's up?"

"Have a seat. I just wanted to go over some things with you. Are you settling in all right?" Hotch sat at his desk and pulled a file out of a drawer.

"Yeah! It's been great. The team is fantastic, the work is--wow, it's... I don't know what the word is, but I'm so into it. I love it here, Hotch, thank you again--"

"I see you now have a permanent address. A house, correct?"

"Right. I got a pretty good deal--"

"I want to come by some time and do a security check."

"Security check?"

"Yes, I want to test your alarm system, examine ingress and egress to and from your street as well as within the house itself, look at rooftop visibility, etc."

"Wow."

"Yes. We all tend to relax when we're at home, and I feel it's important to help my agents become aware of points of vulnerability."

"You're welcome any time, Hotch."

"All right. There's something else--you said if I hired you that you'd tell me what I needed to know about the status of your personal relationship. You haven't told me anything--may I assume that there's nothing to tell?"

Derek shifted in his chair and sighed. "Yeah. It... didn't work out after all." Derek glanced at Hotch and thought he saw a small flash of compassion in the stern man's eyes. Then, it was gone and Hotch looked down to make a note before speaking.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Derek shrugged. "That's the way it goes."

"Are you all right?"

_No, Hotch, I'm not. My heart is broken and I feel like I'm missing a limb. Thanks for asking. _"Sure. I mean, you know, it hasn't been easy, but I'll be fine. It's probably for the best."

Hotch stared at him silently, making him squirm a bit. What did the man want him to say?

"Why do you think it ended?"

_Fuck, man, I don't know. I'm a stupid idiot?_ "It's hard to say. In the end, I guess we just... wanted different things."

"Did your work have anything to do with it?"

"Uh--no, I don't think so. Listen, it's over, do we really need to talk about this?"

Hotch's expression didn't change, but he closed the file. "No, of course not. Again, I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"Thanks."

"Please let me know if you need anything."

"I will."

Hotch nodded and Derek got up to leave. He shook his head slightly as he closed the door behind himself. Hotch was an odd bird, but so far, he had Derek's total respect.

The weeks passed. Derek got in the rhythm of the BAU team, learned the ropes, and became one of them. They all liked the smart, street-wise young man, and were soon impressed by his skills and fluid integration into what they were doing. As cases came and went, they found themselves relying on Derek, and he found his doubts about himself disappearing.

At last, he was doing what he was born to do. It almost made his heartsickness bearable.

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On a Saturday morning, three months after his first day on the job, Derek prepared himself for a run. He wore athletic shorts and a snug t-shirt, and he did a series of stretches and exercises in his living room. He then grabbed his house key and cell phone, and headed to his front door.

But, when he opened it, he found Spencer standing on his porch.

One hand was raised to ring Derek's doorbell, the other was grasping the strap of his battered messenger bag, which was slung across his shoulder. He had a duffle bag at his feet. His hair was shorter, trimmed so that it fell over his forehead and in soft layers around his face. He'd regained a little weight so that he didn't look so much like a concentration camp victim, and he was cleanly shaved with a little color in his face.

Derek couldn't form a word. He just stood there with his mouth open. Then Spencer smiled.

"Hi, Derek."

"Hi, Spencer," Derek found himself parroting. He took a deep breath and got a hold of himself. "Damn, boy, I did not expect to see you standing there."

"Yeah--sorry about that. I got on a plane this morning, and just... went." He shrugged apologetically, then looked Derek up and down, lingering on the front of Derek's shorts. An eyebrow shot up and a grin of frank admiration was on his face. "You're looking well. Very--athletic."

_Is Spencer Reid actually flirting with me? _Derek wondered, amazed. He felt like laughing out loud. "Well, so are you, kid! In fact, you look good enough to eat. My God, get in here, will you? Come on, come inside--" He ushered Spencer into his foyer and closed the door. They faced each other, and neither one seemed capable of speaking.

Finally, Derek asked in a low voice, "Come on, kid--why are you here?"

"What?"

Derek sighed. His mind was rapidly trying to prepare him for whatever it was that Spencer would say, but he couldn't stand not knowing for another minute. "Do you need money? Are you--sick, or something?"

"No! No, Derek--I'm fine, I don't need anything."

"Then, what are you doing here?"

Spencer could feel Derek's defensiveness. He put a reassuring hand on his arm. "You said I could come back."

"Huh?"

"You said if I changed my mind, that I could come back to you. And, I did! Change my mind, that is. So, I have. Come back to you. If that's ok?"

Derek stared. "Come back to me... Are you serious?"

Spencer nodded.

"Wha--what's happened? Why?"

Spencer cast his eyes to the floor and pursed his lips, considering his answer. Then he looked up. "My mom yelled at me."

Derek put one hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. "She yelled at you? What, was her little baby boy getting on her nerves?"

"No--she called me stupid."

"Stupid."

Spencer nodded sheepishly. "She's never called me that before, Derek."

"Uh-huh. Well, why did she call you stupid?"

"She said... She said I was stupid--to run away from someone who loved me so much."

Derek tilted his head and frowned. "Spencer--how could she know--I mean, I never told her anything about us, I only spoke to her once--I never said a word--"

"Your letters, Derek. She read your letters." A soft smile lit the boys' face.

"But--I didn't say anything in those, either! I was just telling her about--"

"You wrote to her every day while I was in the hospital, just like I would have done. That's an act of love in itself. And, she let me read them. No, you never put it into words--but Derek, every one of those letters was a love letter. She could tell, and I could, too. It was... easy to read between the lines."

Derek ran a hand over his scalp. "Ok, so why'd it take you so long to come to this revelation?"

Spencer looked down again. "I went to see her as soon as I got back to Vegas. But, she'd gone into a decompensation phase of her illness--it happens every couple of years, her medication has to be adjusted, and it takes a while. I only began having real conversations with her a few weeks ago. And, she just gave me the letters last night. After I read them, I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about how wrong I'd been about--everything."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't believe we really loved each other." He raised his eyes and searched Derek's face as he chose his words carefully. "I-I always thought that what I felt for you came from weakness--I was hurting, I was frightened, I was worried--and you always made those feelings go away. You just--took care of me. I was grateful." He shrugged.

"And, I never believed you really loved me. I thought I was--like a kitten you plucked out of a drainage ditch, you know? Needing to be rescued. You're always saving people, always being the white knight. I figured, once you saw that I was getting stronger, you'd lose interest anyway. I thought... I thought it would be better for you, too. To let you get on with your life."

"Spencer--"

"No, no--now I know I was wrong!" He brightened and gave Derek a hopeful grin. "I hated being away from you. And, it wasn't because I needed your help--heck, I got a job right away, and in a couple of weeks, I got a better one. And now, I'm dealing blackjack at one of the ritziest casinos on the strip! I can afford to take care of my mom, get an apartment, and even buy a car if I want to. But, it's not like I thought it'd be. I miss you, Derek. There's a piece of me missing. I want us to share our lives--if it's not too late." He took Derek's face in his hands and worriedly looked into his eyes. _"Is _it too late? Is there someone else? Derek--did you stop loving me?"

Derek felt as if his brain would explode.

"Fuck no, I didn't stop loving you! I've been going crazy without you. Everything I've done--I've tried so hard to get you out of my mind, but it just doesn't work. Come here, I want to show you something." Derek grabbed Spencer's arm and led him into his living room. He pointed at a wall full of hand-built bookshelves on either side of the fireplace. They were filled with books.

"My books!" Spencer whispered.

"Yeah. You know how much it cost to move those damn things? How heavy they are? And, I built those shelves myself. They're solid." He tugged at one sharply, but it didn't budge. Derek did quality work.

"Why? Why'd you do this?"

"Because. Having them around made me feel like you were still with me, in a way. And, it was an act of faith. I figured I'd give you a few more months, then I'd go to Vegas and camp on your door until I talked you into coming back with me. I understood that you needed some time for yourself. But--I knew we'd be together again. Someday. Eventually." Derek gave him a rueful smirk and they both laughed. Then, Spencer threw himself into Derek's arms.

"Oh, Derek--I love you. I always loved you, but my mom was right--I was just too stupid to see it."

"No, no--you were just young and mixed-up. I love you too, Spencer. I love you, and I'm never letting you get away from me again."

Spencer looked up at him. "So, it's ok if I stay? You--you really want me back?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "How much clearer can I make it? Yes. I want you back, I want you to move in with me. I want things to be the way they're supposed to be--you, here, with me. In our house. Forever. Period."

Spencer nodded. "I'd like that. And, I'm so sorry, Derek. I'm sorry I hurt you."

Derek hugged him tighter. "It's ok, kid. I--I think we both learned a lot. We'll be better for it." He pulled back and kissed Spencer, and suddenly--somehow, they both felt whole again.

xxxxxxxxxx

They spent the day talking. They both cried at one time or anther, but they both ended up laughing, too. Derek couldn't believe the change in Spencer--he was still the gangly, awkward young man he knew so well, but there was something about him--a confidence, a light in his eyes--that told Derek his mind was healing, as well as his body.

That afternoon, he took Spencer with him to buy groceries, and they cooked out in Derek's back yard.

"We can get a dog, Spence. What do you think about that?"

"Uh--well, I guess so. Maybe a little one."

"We'll discuss it." Derek grinned at him. "And, you can go back to school."

"I know! I already found a program that I like. It'll be centered around behavioral psychology, with a focus on the abnormal mind. I think I might want to go into criminology, at some point."

Derek pursed his lips approvingly and nodded. "Well, there's plenty of work to be done in that area, I can tell you that already."

They ate their dinner, and afterward, they settled on the couch and snuggled together. They began kissing and exploring each other's bodies, refreshing delicious memories. Soon, their hunger for each other became so urgent that they decided to make love right then and there. Derek got Spencer out of his clothes, and he shucked off his own, as well. He went to find the needed supplies, and when he returned, he found that Spencer had already begun to prepare himself for him.

"Please, Derek," he gasped. "I need you inside me. I want you, I want you so much."

"Well, yes, sir--let's see what we can do about that!" Derek said with a grin. "Although, you seem to be taking care of things all right by yourself." He used the gel, then pulled Spencer's hand away and replaced the boy's fingers with his own. He probed gently for that sensitive spot, sliding in and out in a smooth rhythm until Spencer moaned. He bit Derek's neck, then whispered, "Want you..."

"All right, baby. I guess you're ready."

Derek slipped on a condom and slid inside his pretty boy--it had been too long, and he fit so perfectly against him, that the frantic thrusts of their bodies brought them to release much too quickly. They lay there afterwards, wrapped in each other's arms and legs, breathless and laughing.

"Well, we got that out of the way quickly, didn't we?" Spencer asked between panting breaths.

"Yeah, sorry about that, kid. I couldn't hold back. It's been a long time since I--since I had you in my arms."

"I know. Too long..." Spencer kissed him and smiled. "It was wonderful, anyway."

"Yeah. Well, at least it took the edge off. We'll go another couple of rounds in bed later, and take it nice and slow. I intend to--thoroughly reacquaint myself with your skinny little ass." Derek was languidly playing with Spencer's hand, and suddenly he looked at him. "I haven't been with anyone else, Spence. Have you?"

Spencer shook his head. "I don't ever want to be with anyone else. Ever."

Derek nodded. "Ok. It wouldn't have mattered. I just... wanted to know."

Spencer sighed. "You mean--Cassie?"

Derek nodded uncomfortably.

"She's gone, Derek. I haven't even... She's completely out of my head." He tilted Derek's face upward. "That's what you wanted, right? That's what was supposed to happen. 'An integration of the two personalities.'"

"I know."

Spencer gave a rueful laugh. "But--you miss her, don't you?"

Derek shook his head, trying to find the right words. "Cassie was like cotton candy--sweet, fun, but, not really there. She'd just--melt away from me. You're real, kid. You're the one I want. Always."

Spencer pressed his forehead to Derek's. "I'm glad. I miss her too, sometimes. But, it's better this way. I feel--normal, somehow. In a weird way."

Derek laughed and held him closely. "Well, thank God. Thank God for that, Spencer. I love you, baby. Let's go to bed, huh?"

"Ok."

They headed for the bedroom and were soon busy making up for lost time.

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That night, Derek slept peacefully for the first time in a long time. His body was tired, but perfectly sated from a series of lengthy lovemaking sessions with Spencer. The boy had been wonderfully eager for him, and he'd joyfully given Derek his mouth and his hands and his body with no hint of his old hesitation or reticence.

For Derek, drifting off into unconsciousness came easily once again, with the boy's slight frame wrapped tightly in his arms. He smelled so good, and felt so warm, snuggled against him under the covers. For the first time, Derek felt at home in his own bed again.

He woke in the night to a soft caress on his face. In the moonlight, he could see Spencer smiling at him with bright eyes. He smiled back.

"Hey, babe. Can't sleep?"

"So, it's 'Agent' Morgan, now, is it?" came a soft, sultry voice. "I'm so proud of you, honey."

Derek frowned, puzzled. Was he dreaming? "Cassie?"

"Uh-huh. You've done so well. And, my goodness, it feels good to be in your arms again."

Derek cleared his throat and tried to sit up a little. "Cassie--what's going on? Is Spencer ok?"

"Spencer's fine, Derek. He's so happy. He loves you so much. I just came to say thank you--and goodbye."

"Goodbye?"

"Yes, honey. I'm going away."

"But--"

"Spencer doesn't need me anymore, sugar. That's a good thing! I came out of his pain and fear and suffering, and I'll always be there if he needs me--but I don't think he will. I'm happy, Derek. I can finally rest. You know?"

"Cassie. You helped me so many times." He smiled slightly. "You got me through some bad stuff, and you always knew how to make me smile. I'll miss you. I'll miss you, baby."

She laughed softly. "I know. But, I'm a part of Spencer, now. You'll see me in his eyes. You just have to look..." She gave Derek a gentle kiss on his lips and settled back into the warmth of his chest. After a few moments, Derek could tell by Spencer's even breathing that she was gone. Tears sprang to his eyes and he murmured, "Goodbye, Cassie. And, thank you." With that, he gathered Spencer closer, and brushed his lips over his forehead.

He pulled the covers higher around them, whispered, "I love you, Spencer," and soon slipped back into sleep.


	22. The Team Meets Spencer

**A/N: Ok, dear ones, this is the last chapter. I'm sad! But, this was a really fun and challenging story to write, and I very much appreciate every one that read and fav'd or put it on alert, as well as all of you super-fantastic folks that reviewed. Hug-hug, kiss-kiss! **

**And, just to be clear, there's a bit of naughtiness in this one, but it's mostly fluffy fun. **

**Thanks again for reading!!**

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Derek was dreaming about Spencer. There was nothing unusual about that--he'd dreamed about him almost every night since the kid got shot. The settings in the dreams varied, but they always started out with Spencer happy and smiling, and Derek feeling so much love for him that his heart was bursting. They'd be talking, sometimes about little things, sometimes about big plans for the future.

Then, something horrible would happen--they'd be on the edge of a raging river bank, and Spencer would slip away from him. Derek would be immobilized, watching helplessly as Spencer was swept away with the roiling water. Or, Spencer would suddenly become scared and plead with Derek to help him--only to disappear, snatched up by some unseen hand. Derek could then hear his voice desperately calling his name, but never be able to find him. He would wake up in a panic, reach for him, and then the weight of reality would hit him--he was waking up alone.

What was unusual about this Sunday morning was that, not only was his dream wonderfully mundane--something about a vacation and work interruptions, interwoven with Spencer complaining about the food--but, he came to consciousness with Spencer, the real Spencer, not some dream entity, firmly wedged into his side. He found that he was holding him protectively, even in sleep, and he gratefully gathered him closer, pressing kisses onto his cheeks and nose and forehead before claiming his mouth.

He could feel the boy wake up and stretch against him, then he burrowed in, shielding his eyes from the early morning light. After a moment, Spencer's hand wandered slowly over Derek's chest, stopping to finger a nipple, then tracing the line of well-defined pectoral muscles. The hand trailed down over Derek's belly, found his cock, and squeezed. He heard a muffled giggle and before he could think rationally--he'd given the boy a pretty serious work-out before they'd finally slipped off to sleep the night before--Derek was hard. Then, somehow, Spencer was flat on his back with his legs wrapped around Derek's waist, and Derek was blissfully pounding deeply inside him again.

Afterwards, he looked down and saw Spencer lazily grinning up at him. _So beautiful,_ he thought. Dark eyes, long lashes. Tousled brown hair against the white of the pillowcase. Skinny arms warm around Derek's neck. And then, his voice, content, but gravelly--"Mm, morning sex. I've missed that..."

"Me too, babe," Derek gasped. "I've missed _you." _He rolled off of him and was instantly half-covered by Spencer's lithe body as he refused to allow the air between them to cool. They kissed again and then Spencer finally moved over to his side of the bed to stretch luxuriously.

"And, I've missed this bed," he groaned happily. "As well as the man in it."

"Last night was amazing,"

"Yeah."

Derek grinned. "We sure made up for lost time, didn't we?"

Spencer nodded, then ruefully added, "Of course, you understand that I won't be able to walk properly for a while, especially after what we did just now--"

"I'm sorry baby, but that really was your own fault--"

"Oh, I know, I accept full responsibility. But, you were the one who went for round three last night!"

They laughed, Derek resettled him in his arms, and eventually they dozed off again, not quite ready to begin their long, lazy day.

xxxxxxxxx

Later, Derek woke to the sound of kitchen noises. He grinned and rolled out of bed to investigate. He found coffee brewing, and bacon and eggs set out on the counter; Spencer was in a t-shirt and underwear, staring into the refrigerator. Derek came up behind him and patted his bottom, with which he had thoroughly reacquainted himself the night before, as promised.

"Now, this is a damn fine morning. In fact, this is about the best morning I've ever had in my life."

Spencer turned and put his arms around Derek. "You know something? I completely agree." He pulled back with a smile and they kissed tenderly.

Derek asked, "Do I have time for a shower before breakfast?"

"Sure, I'll wait to start the eggs. Go ahead."

Derek disappeared and Spencer poked around in cabinets and drawers until he found a frying pan and a spatula. He smiled; Derek was obviously a creature of habit. Everything was in approximately the same location as it had been back at his old apartment. Spencer took a moment to look out into the big back yard; he knew it would be different, living in a house. So much space, so much room. He thought he might like it.

There was a knock at the door. He glanced down at himself and frowned. He hadn't cleaned up and felt sweaty and sticky and a little sore, especially where Derek had repeatedly "reacquainted" himself with him. His hair was tousled and he was barefoot, but he went to the door and peeked through the peephole.

A stern-looking man in a suit was standing there. Spencer hesitated, but opened the door enough to ask, "Yes?"

The man peered at him. "Hello. I'm looking for Derek Morgan."

"Oh. Well, he's a little busy..."

"I'm Special Supervisory Agent Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief with the BAU." He held up his badge.

Spencer's eyes widened. "Oh, wow. You're Derek's boss! Please, come in..." He opened the door, and gave an awkward smile. "He's, uh, in the shower, but you can wait in here. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

Hotch entered the house, forgetting to pay attention to the security lights and door locks, so distracted was he by the lanky, underwear-clad young man. "No, thank you. Uh--you are?"

"I'm Spencer. Spencer Reid. I'm Derek's... friend." He extended his right hand and was surprised to notice that he was still holding the spatula. He swapped hands, then again offered Hotch his right. Hotch stifled a grin and shook it.

"Is everything ok?" Spencer asked.

"Oh, yes. I had promised to come by and do Morgan's security check, but I just haven't been able to find the time. I happened to be in the neighborhood this morning, so I thought I'd take the opportunity while I had it."

Spencer nodded and was about to say something, but just then Derek strode out of the bedroom, naked, rubbing a towel over his head. "Damn, Spence, you're going to have to come help me change the bed sheets, we wrecked the hell out of them last night and--"

"Derek!" Spencer's voice cracked. "We have company!"

"Huh?" Derek pulled the towel away from his face and saw Hotch. He muttered an expletive and hastily wrapped the towel around his waist, but not before Hotch got a stark view of his agent's formerly hidden--and extremely generous--assets. He glanced back at the rather frail-looking boy beside him and shook his head. Poor lad, no wonder he was limping a bit.

"Hotch!" Derek said, attempting to reclaim some dignity and control over the situation. "I wasn't expecting you. Is everything all right?"

"Uh--yes. I came to do your security analysis--if you have time." He glanced back at Spencer, who was pensively biting his lower lip. "I think I'll take that coffee, now, please."

Spencer nodded gratefully and headed back to the kitchen. Derek and Hotch stared at each other for a moment, then Derek said, "If you'll excuse me, I'll just go... get dressed."

"Of course." Derek disappeared again, and Hotch took a seat at the kitchen table, then Spencer set a coffee cup in front of him.

"Would you like some cream, or sugar?"

"No, just black, thanks."

"Ok." Spencer stood uncertainly, trying to think of something to say. Finally, he came out with, "So--have you caught a lot of serial killers?"

Hotch smiled slightly. "My team has. They're really quite amazing. We're very happy to have Agent Morgan on board, by the way."

Spencer's discomfort seemed to ebb away. He slipped into a chair across from Hotch and gave him a big smile. "He's incredible, isn't he? He was the best detective the N.O.P.D. ever had. He solved some cases that they'd given up on, and he saved a lot of lives. Mine, included."

Hotch gave him an inquiring look. "How's that?"

Spencer paused. He had no idea what Hotch knew or didn't know about him--if anything--and didn't want to reveal something that would embarrass Derek. "He helped me through a really bad time in my life. I was lucky to meet him when I did--otherwise, I probably wouldn't even be alive today."

Just then, Derek returned and assessed the situation. He didn't need his boss and Spencer chatting without his supervision.

"Spence, why don't you go take your shower? We can fix breakfast later."

"Oh--sure, I'll do that. It was nice to meet you, Agent Hotchner." Spencer nodded as he went off to the bedroom. Derek poured himself a cup of coffee, then sat down across from his boss.

"Uh--"

"So, Spencer's your...?"

"Boyfriend."

"Yes."

"Uh-huh."

"The one from New Orleans?"

"Right."

"Are you--"

"He just showed up here yesterday. He wants to get back together. I think... I think we're going to be ok, now."

"Good. He seems very nice. Not at all what I was expecting, however."

Derek gave a wry chuckle. "Yeah, I can imagine. He's--young."

"Yes."

"And, he's been through a lot--but, he's doing ok, now. He's incredibly smart. He's already got two college degrees. And, he's going back to school to work on a Masters in behavioral psychology."

Hotch nodded and smiled. Derek's pride in Spencer came through even though he was still flustered. Hotch took a sip of the hot brew.

"Well, he also makes a damn fine cup of coffee. So, he'll be living here?"

"Yeah."

"You'll provide contact information? Where he goes to school, work, what kind of car he drives--"

"Yes, yes. None of that applies right now, but I'll get it for you when it does."

"All right." Hotch regarded Derek for a moment, then gave him a genuine smile. "I can see that you two care very deeply for each other. I'm happy for you, Morgan."

Derek sighed in relief. He didn't know what he had expected Hotch's reaction to be regarding Spencer, but he was grateful that the Q&A seemed to be over.

Hotch glanced around the room.

"Why don't you show me where your alarm system is set up? Then we can go through the house together. I have a few suggestions already. You'll need a couple of cameras installed out front--"

The two agents strolled outside the house, and once Spencer was out of the shower and dressed, he watched them through the bedroom window and smiled. Derek was happy. He could see it in the way he stood, the way he walked, and in the easy way he was talking and laughing.

And, Spencer was happy, too. The emptiness that had plagued him for so many years had finally gone away. He thought of Cassie, and said a silent thank you. He hoped she was at peace and somehow knew that he was finally exactly where he wanted to be.

He took a deep breath and went out to invite Hotch to eat breakfast with them.

xxxxxxxxx

Then it was late in the morning on Monday. Penelope Garcia was perched on the desk next to Derek's, giving him a critical appraisal. She shook her head and made her pronouncement.

"You look like hell. A sexy, gorgeous hell that I would happily volunteer to be room mother for, but hell nonetheless. What's her name?"

Derek raised tired eyes to hers. He and Spencer had gotten very little sleep the night before--they were still way too excited about being together again to waste time sleeping, but Derek was beginning to wonder if he was too old to have such a young and enthusiastic boyfriend.

"Huh?"

"Come on, sweet potato, I'm not blind. I can see you've had a hot, sex-drenched weekend, and apart from the fact that it wasn't with me, I'm thrilled. It's about time--a gorgeous piece of meat like yourself shouldn't go languishing on the shelf. I just want the dirt. What's her name, and what does she look like? And, most importantly--" Garcia slipped down into a chair so that she could look him straight in the eye--"what did you two... _do... _together? Hmm? Now, go slow, and be thorough. I need details."

"Garcia, I--"

"And, do not tell me it's none of my business! How am I going to live vicariously through you if I don't have details?"

"Garcia, I--"

Garcia narrowed her eyes. "Oh, don't think I'm going to let this go. Uh-uh. If you don't want me to ask these very same questions in the middle of Hotch's next team meeting, you'd better spill it. Now."

Derek almost laughed. She was adorable, even as she drove him crazy. He considered. No one on the team knew he was gay except Hotch, who would never say a word about it to anyone. It wasn't something Derek was trying to keep secret, but it wasn't the sort of topic that came up naturally in casual conversation. This was probably the easiest way to get the information out there without having to make some sort of public declaration.

"Garcia--in the first place, I'm not going to discuss the details of my private life with you, no matter what you threaten me with. However, I do want you to know something--I'm gay."

Garcia gave him a laser-like stare, then burst into scornful laughter. "Oh, you kill me. You do. If you think I'm going to fall for a ruse like that--come on, how dumb do you think I am?"

"It's not a ruse, baby girl. It's true. Sorry, but it is."

"Derek Morgan, if you think I'm going to believe for one second that you're gay, you must be tripping. Because, I have a sixth sense about that sort of thing, and I can tell--you are a bona fide, 100% woman-loving man if I ever saw one, so don't try to throw me off the trail, it won't work."

Derek stood up and took Garcia's face in his hands. "Sweetie, you can believe whatever you want. But, I'm telling you the truth--" he leaned down and whispered in her ear. "...I kiss boys." He gave her an impish grin, then headed off to ask Hotch about a file he needed for the case they were working on.

Garcia watched him retreat with a sour look on her face. Smart-ass. She'd just have to pay more attention, that's all. The delectable Agent Morgan was suddenly getting some, and she wanted to know from whom.

xxxxxxxxx

Within minutes, the BAU office was officially abuzz with speculation about Derek Morgan's sex life. Garcia went off to tell first Elle, who was too busy to pay full attention, and then JJ about their conversation. JJ gave her a puzzled frown.

"Gay? Morgan? Wow."

"Oh, you don't really believe it, do you? He's obviously trying to throw me off the scent!"

"Well--I don't know. That's a pretty heavy claim to make just to keep from having to 'fess up to you about his weekend activities." She grinned a little. Garcia was nothing if not persistent, but still...

"It's ridiculous! There's no way that that burning hunk of chocolate love is getting it on with another man!"

JJ shrugged. "It's kind of none of your business, you know."

Garcia's eyes widened. "Oh, and, you're not curious at all?"

"Oh, I am. I just think we have other things to worry about."

Garcia shook her head in disgust. Just then, Elle walked into JJ's office.

"Ok, Garcia--what was all that you were trying to tell me about Morgan?"

"He claims he's gay."

Elle shrugged. "Morgan's a smart guy. He might say something like that just to freak you out. On the other hand--he's never come on to me. How about you, JJ?"

JJ shook her head. "But, that doesn't mean anything. He might just be too professional to try to mess around with his co-workers. Especially when they're armed."

Elle's lips twisted into a wicked grin. "Well, I'm not putting up with not knowing. I'll just ask him directly. Who's with me?" Both Garcia and JJ shot up out of their chairs and joined her as she headed down the hall in search of their mystery man.

xxxxxxxxx

At the same time that the BAU girls were having their discussion, Gideon slipped into Hotch's office and took a seat across from him. Hotch looked up wearily.

"Yes?"

"So, what's the deal with Morgan?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Haven't you heard the gossip? At first, all the ladies were discussing which one of them would be the first to be propositioned by him. This week, they're all speculating that he's gay."

Hotch put down his pen and smiled slightly. "If that were the case, I would think a group of sharp FBI profilers could figure it out on their own."

Gideon smirked and pointed knowingly at Hotch. "You know something."

"And, I have no intention of discussing it. If you're so curious, go ask him yourself."

"I'll just do that." Gideon rose and headed off to find Morgan. After a moment, Hotch followed. He could imagine a little head-butting going on between the two men if Gideon didn't present his question in the right way.

xxxxxxxxx

Blissfully unaware that these conversations were going on, Derek got on the phone to Spencer. "Hey, babe."

"Hi, Derek. What's up?"

Derek grinned suggestively, but let it pass. "I miss you. Why don't you come down here to the office and I'll take you to lunch? Also, I'd like to introduce you to everyone."

Spencer bit his lip worriedly. He was amazed that Derek had not only welcomed him back so forgivingly, but that he was already so eager to bring him into his new life. He was, however, terrified at the thought of meeting Derek's co-workers en masse. Hotch had been nice, but still...

"Uh--well, ok. But, are you sure you want me to meet them? With my past, and Cassie and all..."

"Hell, yes, I want you to meet them! None of that shit matters--I'm proud of you, kid."

"You are?" Spencer felt a catch in his throat.

"Damn right. I'm proud of you, and I want to show you off."

Spencer smiled a little, then asked, "But, what about, uh--I mean, do they already know you're... with a guy?"

"It's getting around. Look, just come on down, ok? I'll leave word at the front desk, you'll just have to show your ID to get in."

"Ok... I love you, Derek."

"Love you too, kiddo. See you soon."

xxxxxxxxx

Spencer took a cab and arrived at the BAU within fifteen minutes. He got cleared at the receptionist's desk and was directed upstairs. He got off the elevator and found his way to the offices; he came into an empty bullpen. He wandered around until he found the open door of the break room; Derek was pouring a cup of coffee. Spencer tapped on the door frame.

"Hey."

Derek looked up and a huge smile crossed his face. "Hey, kid." He hurried to him and put his arms around him. It felt good to have Spencer show up at his workplace. He was just about to lead Spencer off to find everyone, when he looked past the boy's shoulder and saw that JJ, Elle, Gideon, Garcia and Hotch had all gathered in the doorway, bewildered expressions on everyone's face except for Hotch, who looked mildly amused.

"Oh, hey, guys. You're just in time. I want to introduce you to my boyfriend, Spencer Reid."

The room was oppressively silent for a long moment. Then, JJ stepped forward and offered her hand.

"Hi, Spencer. I'm JJ. This is Elle--" Elle did the same, then moved back to allow Gideon to move forward. "...and this is Gideon."

"Hello, Spencer. It's very nice to meet you." The older man had kind eyes and his warm handshake made Spencer feel more at ease.

Spencer smiled shyly as he shook everyone's hand. However, he couldn't take his eyes off the eccentric-looking blonde who hung at the back, staring at him. Finally, Garcia stepped forward.

"I'm Penelope Garcia. My heart is officially broken, but--welcome, Spencer!" She threw her arms around him and gave him a breath-stealing bear hug. "Oh--you're so cute! Derek Morgan, leave it to you to have a boyfriend who's prettier than I am! Come on, Spencer, I'll show you my office. I have a feeling we're going to be very good friends..." Garcia grabbed Spencer's hand and dragged him out of the break room with her. He gave Derek a helpless look, but grinned and allowed himself to be led down the hall. The rest of the team looked expectantly at Derek. He smiled sheepishly.

"Uh--well, thank you for making the kid feel welcome. He was kind of worried about meeting you all."

"Seems like a nice young man," Gideon assured him.

"He _is_ cute," JJ added.

"I'm happy for you, Morgan," Elle said, patting Morgan's shoulder. "You'll have to bring him with you next time we go for drinks."

Derek sighed in relief. Never in his life had he imagined being truly happy. But here he was, surrounded by people he respected and cared for, and doing work he was not only good at, but proud to be doing. And, he was in love with a boy that loved him back and who was finally willing to start over with him, just as Derek had always hoped he would.

Elle and JJ cornered Derek and asked him a series of rapid-fire questions about Spencer--How old is he? Where is he from? How'd you two meet?--while Gideon stood off to the side with a bemused expression. Hotch went back to his office to get some work done.

Derek answered the questions with a well-scripted, fit-for-general-consumption story; he didn't know if the day would ever come when he would tell them the truth. They didn't need to know, and anyway, he and Spencer really were starting a brand new life together. He thought they deserved a nice, bland back story to go with it.

Once the interrogation died down, he invited everyone to go to lunch, and they delightedly agreed. Derek went to find Spencer and Garcia, but he had a hard time getting either of their attention as they were deep in an animated discussion about some beloved comic book character, with Spencer's hands flying as he went on about the genius behind the series originator and Garcia gleefully interjecting and talking over him.

Derek smiled. Spencer was happy, he could see that. He knew that he would spend every day from now on showing Spencer that he was safe and loved and very much needed in Derek's life, no matter what. Derek was never going to risk losing him again.

He wondered if it was too soon to ask Hotch for a little time off. He and Spencer had some traveling to do, first to Vegas, then to Chicago. And, he had to come up with a truthful, but heavily edited, version of their back story.

He never could lie to his mother.

-The End-


End file.
